A Chance to Say Goodbye
by Marla Fair
Summary: An Elsewhere's Tale following the continuity of Kingdom Come - a tale of Nightwing and Nightstar. Can father and daughter survive the death of Starfire - and her seeming resurrection?
1. Haunted

_One:Haunted_

"Dad.

"Dad!

"Daddy! Wake up! Please, wake up! You're scaring me.

"Dad!"

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Dick Grayson's ice blue eyes flew open without focus. His heart was beating wildly and he had no conscious notion of where he was or why he was weeping. His arms ached for something they had not held in ages and he was suddenly startled as a warm form, it's heart beating apace with his own fell into them, wrapping him in concern and holding him tight.

"Dad? What is it? X'Hal, you scared me. I've never heard you cry out like that before. Dad….?"

His mind was working slowly as though it hadn't been oiled in months. This was his child. A daughter. He placed his hand on her straight black hair, smooth as silk, and felt a sob rise within him. "Nightstar?" he whispered, swallowing the desire to scream. "Honey, I…. I don't…." He blinked and shifted back on the bed away from her, running strong hands across his face and through black hair winged with silver. "What are you doing here?"

Dark brows formed a 'v' like a raven's tail and a heart-shaped face tipped sideways, jade green eyes without pupils pinning him. "I live here," she intoned slowly as though he were a remedial student bereft of sense or the ability to learn, "remember? Me, Nightstar. You, Dad…. I thought the doc said you were all right in the head now. Skull too thick to crack, or something like that." She grinned, but it was only to hide her fear. Her slender hand gently brushed his forehead where the scar still showed from the last battle. That horrible battle. Feeling very young and vulnerable she shuddered, resisting the urge to clasp him tight. "You are all right…?"

Finally coming to himself a bit Dick Grayson heard the fear echo in his only child's voice and taking a deep breath, sought to reassure her. "I'm fine, honey. Sorry I scared you. I guess it was a nightmare…"

"Must have been some nightmare." She shifted off the bed and away from his arms, pulling her pale green nightshirt about light golden shoulders. "It sounded like your best friend had died ~ " Nightstar winced. It was too late to take it back. She scrunched up her pretty face and ducked her head. "Sorry, Dad, that was thoughtless…"

"It's okay, princess. We've all been hurt. It will mend…with time."

Or so they told him.

His daughter left the room and him, planting a quick kiss on his forehead as she slipped out into the darkened hall. They had just returned to their own home after months of recovery under her 'grandfather's' watchful eye and things were still a little odd. They didn't know each other at all that well anymore and were trying to feel out just what they were to each other. Friends? Nightstar and Daddy? Or more honestly, perhaps, strangers. Since Kory's death they had withdrawn from each other, both enjoying their own private hells. He had been too hard. She had been too wild. He had pushed and when she should have bent, she had broken. They had lost one another.

It had only taken the end of the world to put them back together. And where did they go from there….?

Shaking his head, he walked to the bathroom mirror and tossed cold water in his face. This was the third…no… fourth night in a row that he had had the dream. Each night he awakened breathless, aching, his heart pounding and his breath rapid. Tonight had been different only because he had had an audience. Nightstar had been at her grandfather's ~ at Bruce's ~ over the weekend. Tonight she had come home.

And he was grateful, because tonight ~ unlike all of the others ~ he had been unable to wake. He could remember clearly the sensation of suffocation, of slipping further and further away through waves of something thick and viscous, a solid liquid that filled his lungs and throat. He had been trying to yell. Crying out. Reaching for something…or someone….

Sitting on the edge of the bed he sighed, ran his hands over his face again and flopped back, staring at the ceiling. He had every right to have nightmares. Less than four months had passed since the end of everything. Since Donna and Roy, Garth and so many others had died in a battle the likes of which had never been seen. _He_ had almost been killed. His child had been exposed to radiation that would have left her ~ if not for the ministrations of STAR labs and other alien technologies ~scarred for life. He had seen more death and destruction in one day than he had ever dared to believe possible, including the death of many of his ideals. It was not like he had no excuse to fall prey to night terrors, and yet ~ this was something more. Something all too _real_.

Suppressing a shudder he sat up again and reached for the robe at the end of his bed, pausing as his hand hit the soft worn fabric. It was at least as old as Nightstar and threadbare in places. Kory had given it to him just before she found out she was ex pect~

" _Dick?"_

The voice made him start and his lightning fast reflexes propelled him off of the bed and halfway across the room before he turned. There was nothing there. He could feel the robe in his hand and the carpet beneath his feet. He was awake. But he had heard…. Feeling like an idiot, he whispered, "Kory?"

Silence greeted him. The silence of the dead.

"You're spooking yourself, Grayson. Get a grip." He pulled on the robe relishing its soft caress and turned to leave the room. There before him, reflected in the mirror a familiar form drifted, the result of his subconscious desire. It _had_ to be the result of his subconscious desire ~ otherwise he was going mad. He took a step toward the pale vision and as he did, it dissipated, losing form even as its arms reached out towards him, pleading.

" _Help me."_

Moments later his hand pressed against the now empty glass as tears ran down his pale cheeks. "I tried, Kory. God knows I tried."

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The day had been grueling. He had spent it at the side of a man he greatly admired and sought to emulate, seeking to help him reclaim what was left of the state he had once called home. There was great joy to be found in handing out grain with which people could plant new fields and make a new beginning. Superman had done much to erase the signs of the battle of the metahumans, but it was all too clear in Red Robin's mind's eye. He would be forever scarred, unable to forget the flash of light and the images it had burnt into his brain. There was no describing the waste of life. The destruction of innocence. By the time the day ended he was bone-weary and feeling every one of his forty-two years…and maybe a few more. Superman had offered him a 'ride' and he had taken it, remaining silent, caught in memories of those long gone and not so long gone and wondering why of them all he was still here. Maybe for his child. Thank God, she was still here as well.

Clark had dropped him off giving him one of those knowing fatherly looks that said, "We'll talk later', and then was off in a flurry of red and blue, rising boldly into the night sky, winging west to meet with Diana. Dick stood and watched him for a moment and then turned to face his home and his own lonely bed with trepidation. At least Nightstar should be waiting for him.

But when he got inside she was nowhere to be found. There was a brief note. "Out with Ibn." He sighed and crushed the scented paper between shaking fingers. He wasn't really sure what he thought of that relationship. She was over eighteen. It really should be her choice, but …. Visions of Ra's al Ghul and his cool, calculating child filled his mind. Talia had wanted Bruce. Wanted him to be her father's successor. Unable to obtain that, she had done the next best thing. Obtained his seed. Had his child. He swallowed hard. He wasn't even certain what he thought about _that_ yet, let alone Bruce's dark son courting _his_ only child. It was bound to be a match made in heaven …or hell. Probably the latter. He tossed the note in the trash, sighing. She knew his opinion. For now that would have to do. He didn't want to alienate her again.

"God, Kory, why couldn't you have had a boy? Why have you left me here alone? I feel so…." He paused, realizing he was speaking out loud. Inadequate. That's what he felt. _Really_ inadequate.

Sitting down he picked up the book of Themyscaran sonnets Donna had given him the year before on his birthday ~ a less than subtle hint ~ and began to read. But no sooner had his hand touched the ancient leather than he felt his head begin to nod. _Damn, he was getting old!_ Still, it had been a long hard day, hard emotionally _and_ physically. He would just fall asleep for a second and then he would be able to read until his child came home.

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 _The sky was black, even though it was near midday. Rain poured like tears from heaven soaking the small trembling girl who held her father's hand tightly, seeking to comfort him. He hadn't been able to speak for three days. All he could manage was to hold her and caress her shining hair. He couldn't bear to let her out of his sight, as though somehow his watchfulness could keep her safe ~ even though he had failed her mother. Failed his wife. Failed himself._

 _Before him the sodden earth yawned, swallowing the silver and lavender coffin that held the mortal remains of his beloved and the dreams he had had of a long life together. He knew he was still in shock. Caught in disbelief. Three days before she had been so alive…so vital… Now…. He hadn't even been able to say goodbye to her. The pathogen that struck her had moved so quickly there had been no time. It had simply sucked the life out of her, tearing her from him and from her child. She had never awakened from the coma. Never responded to his touch. Never known he was there. He had moved heaven and earth to save her, even dealing with Bruce again, but for nothing. She had slipped away without a sound, leaving him alone to care for their small child when he knew he couldn't even take care of himself without her._

 _A soft touch on his shoulder had drawn him back from his reverie and at that moment he recognized Donna's gentle voice as she attempted to pull Nightstar's small hand from his. He reached for her, suddenly terrified, but Donna gently held him back, kissing his wet cheek as she whispered, "It's freezing, Dick. You're both soaked to the skin. You need to come inside."_

 _He shook his dark head, unable to tear his ice blue eyes away from the brown earth as it rained down on the ornate lid of the metal box that held the earthly remains of his Tamaranean wife.._

 _"Dick, think of your child. She'll get sick. You both will."_

 _"Daddy?" Nightstar's small voice broke through the cloud that engulfed him, threatening to eclipse everything but his pain. He glanced at her and her large green eyes so much like her mother's fastened on him. "Daddy, I'm sorry…."_

 _"Sweetie, Daddy's going to wait here a minute or so. You come with me."_

 _"No, I don't want to." The little girl stamped her feet, splashing mud on Donna's leggings. " I want to stay. Please don't make me…."_

 _Dick looked up at her, his eyes filled with unshed tears. "Go on," he whispered, his voice rough with grief, "I need to be alone."_

 _As Donna moved the small girl away her cries tore into his very soul, but he felt unable to cope with her open expression of grief anymore. His feelings were more complex and he knew, unlike his little girl that once he said goodbye, once he walked away, it was over. He would never see her face again. Never hear her voice. She would be dead. Eternally dead and gone._

 _He knelt beside the newly filled grave, remaining as the workers moved the crane away, lingering as night descended and the pale bloated moon rose in a sky still peppered with clouds. At last, when everyone had gone he sat in silence, his head bowed, his trembling hands digging into the earth, seeking to find her, to feel her touch one more time. Suddenly, unexpectedly, cold white fingers found his. The dirt beneath him began to heave and shift and the pale sun-deprived corpse of his wife began to rise from its resting place, ratted locks of crimson hair shifting in the breeze about her fallen cheeks. Her eyes, flat and lifeless, fixed him and she pleaded, bone-thin hands caressing his sweat-soaked skin, "Dick, I need you. Where are you? Save me…."_

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"Dad? Dad, come on. This is getting old. _Dad!"_

Nightstar glanced over her shoulder at the door where Ibn had just bid her farewell. Could he have made it to his car yet? Was she going to have to call for help?

"Dad…."

They had had a wonderful night. Ibn, as always, had been the soul of graciousness. He had taken her to a private restaurant where, as usual, he had purchased all of the seats to save them from prying eyes. He had remembered to fill the room with roses ~ red and white ~ her favorites and had pulled out her chair, seating her, planting a platonic kiss on the top of her hair much like her Dad used to do when she was little. They had talked for hours, laughing and drinking until she had realized that, as usual, he had said very little about himself and learned an awful lot about her. Some time later when he returned her to her home, those keen eyes of his fixed on her as she exited the limo and moved into the house, she felt flustered and uncertain. Had she just spent an enjoyable evening with the most 'drop dead' gorgeous man she had ever met, or had she been part of an experiment? Why did she always come away from their dates feeling like a pet rat?

And yet, a night with Ibn left her always wanting more….

Confused, excited, breathless, she had closed the door with a sigh, remembering the sweetness of his breath and the soft touch of his elegant long fingers only to be startled by the form of her dad asleep in the chair by the fireplace. He looked gray and fatigued and was still in his soiled Red Robin uniform, the hood thrown back to show his handsome time-worn features and his sabled hair. She had crossed to gently kiss him goodnight when she realized he was cold to the touch, his strong lean frame bathed in sweat. Taking him by the shoulders she gently shook him, expecting him to wake, but he hadn't. Terrified, she had taken hold of him and roughly shaking him caused a stray lock of his black hair to fall across eyes clamped shut in pain.

And then she had realized he wasn't breathing.

Though in reality no more than two minutes had passed, Nightstar felt it had been a hundred years.

"Dad! Cut this out! You're scaring the hell out of me!"

" _Dad!"_

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooDeep within the grip of his nightmare vision, Dick Grayson heard his child calling him but couldn't answer. His lungs seemed to be filled with the same thick viscous liquid that had made it impossible for him to speak before. He drew in a breath and gagged, reeling back in horror as the white phantom that had been his wife shifted, seeming to notice the girl for the first time.

"' _Star?"_ She whispered quietly, her wide soulless eyes blinking within their gaunt frame. _"Nightstar, don't wake him.! I need to tell him!"_ Her beloved face turned toward him, the veil of death obscuring the lips he had kissed, the golden skin he had caressed. White fingers caressed his cheeks. Cold white fingers running through his hair in desperation. _"Dick! Hear me. Help me! Please!"_

Terrified for his child, for himself…terrified of the sick reality of this vision, he reached up and pried her fingers loose, casting her away. In his dream he fell to his knees, gasping for breath, too weak to move.

But then from far away came the voice of his child once again. She was screaming, crying. He could hear his name. He forced his head up and could no longer see the vision of Koriand'r. With a start, he realized she must have fled in search of her daughter! Pressing off of the ground he swam up through a mire of confusion, calling for his child. He had to reach her first. Make her see that this hideous creature wasn't her mother ~ couldn't be her mother….

"Nightstar…. Princess, I'm~"

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The raven-haired beauty drew in a deep breath as her father's eyes flashed open and he gasped like a swimmer breaking the surface after too many minutes within the water's cloying embrace. Uncertain, she stopped her strong hands in mid-air, hesitating before bringing them down in another crashing blow on his chest. Beneath the dark somber reds and grays his skin was already beginning to bruise, the result of her frantic attempts to make him breathe.

Raising his sore body on one elbow, Dick Grayson coughed spasmodically and blinked away tears. His daughter threw her arms about him and began to cry. "Dad, I was so scared…. Daddy, I love you. Don't you dare leave me alone…."

The former boy wonder just sat holding her tight, feeling tears run down his own cheeks. She was trembling like a little bird, her heart pounding hard and fast.

Beyond his melancholy. Beyond the fact that after ten years he missed his wife so bad he still felt the ache of her loss everyday in his bones. Beyond this….

Something was definitely wrong.

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Some time later Nightstar sat in the bedroom she had occupied as a child, balled up in the corner of the bed shaking. For the last few years she had survived… No, had _existed_ within her anger and now that she had given it up, she had no where to hide. Now that she had _admitted_ not only to the world, but to _herself_ that she loved her Dad, she was suddenly seized with the thought that she might lose him. She had already almost lost him on that horrible day… the day _so many_ of the others had died. If it hadn't been for the speed and strength she had inherited from her alien mother, he would be dead now… vaporized on the field of battle or dead from the blow 666 had given to his all too human skull.

And if he had died, it would have been her fault. Just like her mother's death all those years ago had been her fault. She closed her jade green eyes and rocked back and forth slowly, sick and frightened. She could still see her Mom, see her beautiful form as she awoke her that day. She could remember every item on the breakfast tray she had brought her in bed, the scent of her hair as it brushed her fevered cheek. It was all burnt on her mind's eye with frightening clarity.

Even then Koriand'r had been dying ~ though no one had known it. If only she had remembered… If only she had been able to warn her in time.

Sniffling, she threw her long black hair over her shoulder and stared out the window at the

star- filled sky. That day, at the cemetery, she had tried to tell her Dad she was sorry, but he hadn't been able to hear her. He had never forgiven her, just as she had never forgiven herself.

Aunt Donna had been the only one she had ever told and _she_ had informed her that she was being silly. The beautiful Amazon had always been able to make her feel better, even when they disagreed. She had told her to tell her Dad, to free herself from the past…but she had never been able to do it. When it mattered, she had failed him. And in failing him, she became afraid. Afraid that one day he would die too and she would be at fault.

And then Aunt Donna had died too. And again, in a way, it was her fault.

She stood and walked to the window feeling lost and hopeless. She had checked on her Dad and he was sleeping peacefully in his bed, but rest eluded her. Something was wrong. Something was haunting him and she knew what it was. The same thing that haunted her… her mom.

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In the morning Dick Grayson awoke to find his daughter curled up in a ball at the end of his bed, her dark hair draped across his feet.

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"Clark, can we talk?"

The older man tipped his head toward his companion and lowered the steel girder he was hoisting into place, finishing the infra-structure of one of the many buildings being reconstructed on the reclaimed plains of Kansas. The sun shone brilliantly off of his whited temples and cast his keen eyes into shadow.

"Talk? About?"

Red Robin glanced about, dropping his voice as he indicated the top of another unoccupied structure nearby. "Can you ~ ?"

The man known to the world as Superman checked the monstrous beam making certain it was anchored properly and then he clapped dust off of his hands. "Something personal?"

"Very."

There was a moment of silence and then a nod. "Let me give some instructions and then we'll be ~ up, up and away…."

Red Robin grinned. "Cut that out."

Superman shifted so the light hit his pale blue eyes. "Just wanted to see you smile."

Moments later they were standing on the top of a recently completed three story building, the dawn light about them painting the autumn sky and the brick structure a pale golden-pink. Dick slipped the dark hood off of his face and ran a hand across a slightly grizzled face. His friend studied him a moment and then commented evenly, "You don't look so good."

Dick met his eyes and then looked at the backs of his hands. "I haven't been sleeping. At least… not well."

"Yes…?"  
The man who was Red Robin sat down crossing his legs beneath him. "It's just that… I've been having these…dreams…."

The other man shifted, his shadow falling across him. "And…?"

Dick's head was in his hands. "Kory's in them. She's not dead but not… alive. She's…." He paused and took a deep breath, raising eyes wet with tears. "God, Clark, how long does it take? Don't you ever….?"

Clark's blue eyes narrowed and his face assumed a faraway cast. "No. Never."

Dick was startled. "Not even now? With Diana? I thought…."

Silence fell again as the giant of a man sat beside him, tossing his red cape sideways so the yellow 'S' flashed in the sun. "How many years has it been…? Ten? Fifteen? " He hesitated and then sighed, "One? It might as well have been. I can still see her… vibrant …alive. Just as I left her at the Planet before the Joker…."

"You don't have to go through it, Clark. I just thought ~"

"That it would get better eventually? It does."

"But you said~"

"I said, you never forget. Never. But you do move on. You have to or you go mad. It's as simple as that."

Dick was silent a long while. Overhead others, metahumans and aliens, flew past carrying on the work of restoration. "I think I may have done that."

Clark's eyebrows soared. "Moved on?"

"No. Gone mad."

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"Dad, do you want me to stay in your room tonight? I can sleep on the floor."

"No, honey. I'm okay. It was just a dream."

"But you weren't breathing. I couldn't hear your heart."

Dick pushed his daughter's raven hair away from her forehead and planted a kiss on it, feeling her hands press against his bruised chest. She had really hit him hard. "Princess, I'm really sorry I scared you. I think you just got frightened and panicked a little. I was just ~"

Her foot stamped down barely missing his as fire lit her great green eyes reminding him sharply of her deceased mother. "I am _not_ exaggerating! You weren't breathing. You were white as a sheet and clammy like ~ " She stopped, her heart pounding hard. "Stop treating me like a child."

She pulled free of his grip and went to stare out the window, her back to him. He could feel the walls going up and was sorry for whatever he had done to erect them in the first place. "Nightstar, I don't think of you as a child. I'm sorry if it seems that way. You have to realize its hard for me to think of you as an adult, and yet, you're practically the same age your mother was when we first met…. It's just… A nightmare can't kill you," he laughed, trying to make light of her fear.

She turned sharply and met his eyes, her own steady and shining. "Don't be so sure. Mom thought that too. Look where it got her."

"What?" Her father took a step toward her. "What do you mean by that ~"

She brushed past him. "Forget it! I'm going out. You go to sleep and take your own chances. I'm not going to hang around and be the one to find the body." And with that, she was out the door and gone.

Several minutes later his ears were still ringing from the force with which she had slammed the front door. He sat on the edge of the bed and buried his face in his hands. God, he was tired. But despite what he had told his child ~ he _was_ afraid to fall asleep. So much so that he had taken something to keep him awake ~ and _that_ was something he had _never_ done before.

Several hours later he sat beside the fire in the living room staring at an old family album filled with photos from happier times. Kory was there, so was Nightstar as a carefree little girl, toddling from one parent to the other. There were pictures too of Donna and Roy. Of Garth and the others. His hand caressed one well-worn photo of his wife. She was glowing and radiant.

Five days later she was dead.

His hand on the photo, he stared at the flames in the fireplace, replaying the conversation he had had with Clark that morning on the summit of a man-made mountain of bricks and steel.

"No," he had said in response to Clark's assertion that he had chosen to move on, "Gone mad."

Clark placed a wide hand on his shoulder briefly and asked in a quiet voice, "Can you tell me about it?"

He closed his eyes and began to speak, relating what he remembered of the dreams he had had and of the months and years before that, longing for, unable to forget his beautiful wife, the love of his life, the mother of his child. Clark listened without speaking, nodding his head occasionally, his own eyes growing dreamy, his mouth set in a line.

"At least you _had_ a child…"

Dick looked up at him, suddenly feeling very selfish, and apologized. "I'm sorry. I've made you remember. I didn't mean~"

Clark shook his head. "No. It's good to remember." He took a deep breath and looked at his hands where they were clasped together in his lap. "Sometimes I go days now without thinking of her. I think… I think perhaps that has allowed her to move on as well."

"What do you mean?"

Clark laughed. "It's something Diana believes. That we keep the dead near us by our stubborn refusal to let them move on. And that they in turn suck life from us in order to stay." He grinned and tilted his head. "She has been to Hell you know…"

Dick looked away. "So have I."

Clark's hand returned to his shoulder. "I don't know what to say. I will never forget Lois, I wouldn't want to… but I have begun to remember her _without_ pain. Diana has given me that. Perhaps it is time you ~ "

Dick smiled sadly. "Now you sound like Donna. She even tried to set me up a few times … never worked out. I couldn't ~"

"Or _wouldn't_ …"

"Yeah."

They sat in silence a moment, united in a common pain that though long past, knit their hearts together as one.

"Thanks, Clark. I couldn't have talked to Bruce. Not about this… Not even now."

Clark looked away, and then turned to face him, his eyes narrowed. "Bruce is a good man. He feels deeply. Perhaps _too_ deeply."

"I know. But… he's never been married and… he didn't really _care_ for Kory…."

"He loves you. In that, he loved her. And he cares a great deal for your daughter."

"Yeah, but Bruce is…well…. _closed_. I couldn't talk to him like this. He wouldn't… I _know_ him. He'd change the subject. He's ~ "

"He's never let go. He hasn't moved on. His parents' deaths are as real to him today as they were thirty years ago."

Dick's grin was pale, but it was there. "Are you saying he's mad?"

Superman looked startled and then shaking his head stood, his over six foot frame casting a mighty shadow.

"If the cowl fits." He held a hand out to his young friend and smiled. "Come on, Dick, we have work to do."

Red Robin pulled his cowl forward to mask his features and took his friend's hand, holding it a moment before allowing himself to be pulled in so they could begin the descent to the dotted plain.

"Thanks Clark, for everything."

Superman met his eyes and said tersely, "Bruce is a good man. You should talk to him. He knows a lot about love _and_ loss."

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At four a.m., lost and unable to sleep, Bruce was about the only person he _could_ talk to.

He had left a note for Nightstar, hoping she wouldn't panic at his absence ~ hoping she would come home to notice he _was_ absent. He had thrown on a soft shirt and pair of jeans along with his bike helmet and ridden over, arriving just as the first rays of the rising sun heralded another day. Now he stood without the entrance to the restored Manor, his foot on the first step, hesitating. What would he say? "Hi, Bruce, I'm falling apart and I came to you to put me back together … again…." It hadn't been that long since he had left Bruce's care. The older man had watched over him, nursing him back to health along with Nightstar and others after ~ After the end of everything that had been.

Exhausted, weary beyond words he leaned his forehead against the newly refurbished mahogany beams of the old manor house thinking. What was he really seeking here? Sympathy? Empathy? Or, like his daughter, just the arms of a 'daddy', someone who would hold him and make it all right?

Dick Grayson laughed out loud and ran a hand through his dark hair. Like _that_ would ever happen….

Getting back on his bike he turned and rode away into the brightening sky.

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In the cave, far below, the sound echoed hollowly from cavern wall to cavern wall. Two straight figures, one held in place by a series of metal tubes that formed an exterior exo-skeleton, the other by strength of purpose, watched him go. A hand ringed with bright blue fabric the color of a summer sky fell on the shoulder of the man cloaked in black and gray, daring to touch, seeking permission.

"Well," he said after a moment.

The other man steepled his long fingers after cueing a camera that tracked the young man's movements, ascertaining the direction he headed was towards his home. Dark blue eyes narrowed beneath salt and pepper brows. After a second he toggled another switch and the screen flickered. Moments later the image of the man he had raised and loved, lost and found, was replaced with that of a small boy caught in the act of purse-snatching.

"Ex-13, Bayside. Be gentle."

"Bruce. What are you going to do?"

His eyes never leaving the screen, the gray haired man replied grimly. "About what?"

Superman sighed, shifting so he leaned against the computer, forcing the other man to look at him. "About Dick… and Koriand'r."

"I see no need to do anything. Everything is as it was. No need to change."

A low rumble escaped the throat of the titanic figure followed by a deep breath and the name, "Bruce…"  
The man who was and had been the Batman shifted in his seat and swiveled to face

the tall alien as though he were an opponent. "No lectures. Dick is his own man. He's strong. He has survived all these years and he will survive this. Death is permanent. He will have to accept that." He gave another curt instruction to his robotic Batman and watched him gently lift the small boy from his feet and into the sky. "We all have to."

Superman pushed off the board and moved into the center of the cave, glancing about as though he were employing his legendary x-ray vision. A moment later he said quietly, "You and I both know that isn't true. Not now… not _then._

"Bruce, you are going to have to tell him. If you don't, I will."

Bruce Wayne spun in his black leather chair, anger kissing his aging patrician features. "Is that a threat?"

Steel blue eyes greeted his. "Take it as you will. It is time for the truth. Something has changed, in him, with her…. Have you even checked…?"

"God, yes, every day. Nothing has changed."

"Then he needs to know that. Let them go. Let it end."

And with that he was gone.

Bruce leaned forward placing his elbows on the blinking control board before him, lost in thought. Moments later, a familiar voice spoke from the cloak of inky shadows behind him.

"Bruce, what is it I need to know?"


	2. Revelations

_Chapter Two: Revelations_

"Damn Clark! He _had_ to know you were there."

Dick Grayson stood stunned, unable to reply. Before him a vast network of multi-colored wires and tubes fed into a coffin-shaped crystalline box which pulsed with fire and light. Inside it lay what was at once the most beautiful and the most horrifying sight he had ever seen.

His dead wife. Only she wasn't dead.

Beyond anger, beyond grief ~ beyond belief ~ he staggered forward, his shaking hands outstretched towards the glistening casket.

"Careful Dick," Bruce spoke quietly, as though afraid to intrude, "don't disturb anything."

He didn't hear a word. Advancing with the grace of an athlete born, he circumvented the multitudinous wires and came, suddenly, face to face with the stuff of his dreams.

She was pale, more pale than he ever recalled seeing her, and surrounded with a thick liquid whose purpose must have been to replace the air in her lungs, protecting her like an unborn babe. She didn't seem to be breathing, but simply floated a few inches above the dais that held the box, as though asleep. Above and beside her digital monitors blinked and beeped, steadily recording the almost null action of her brain and vital functions.

"It's a form of cryogenic preservation, based on Victor Fries's work. I…." Bruce Wayne hesitated, at a loss for words. The rigid form of the young man before him, unseeing , unhearing, its every fiber bent toward the almost lifeless form of his alien wife confirmed his worst fears. Damn Clark. He should never have been forced to bring him here.

Several silent minutes passed as Dick Grayson assimilated all that had transpired in the last hour. Bruce had pivoted in his chair, ghostly pale. With shaking hands and voice he had told him that Koriand'r was alive ~ in a way. The half-hour flight in the Batwing to the STAR lab subsidiary in Maine had been passed in silence. He had been in shock. Afraid to believe it was true. And yet now.… Now that he was here staring at her animated corpse, kept alive artificially long past its time, he began to feel a mounting rage. Finally, unable to contain it any longer, he turned on the man who had raised him and began to scream, all of the pain and horror and grief of the past ten years pouring out of him in an unstoppable tide of venom.

"How dare you! What were you thinking? Who do you think you are? God?" He pivoted and pointed at his wife, at what had _been_ his wife, the vision of her animated corpse as seen in his nightmares still swimming before his eyes. Shaking, he thrust his hand in the direction of the false bed of life. " _When_ did you do this? I saw her buried. You …" His voice broke as he drew in a breath laced with decade old tears. "I _kissed_ her goodbye before they closed the lid. I held her…." Coming closer to the man who had in a very real way _created_ the man he was this day, he threatened him with hands clenched in fists of rage. "Bruce… Oh God, did you dig her up? Bruce?" When he received no reply, his voice broke and he screamed, " _What the hell were you thinking?"_

The man who had spent decades as the Batman facing some of the worst the world had to offer; Two-Face, the Joker…Bane, felt himself begin to tremble in fear. But he knew the fear was not one of physical harm ~ though that was a very real possibility ~ but of loss. He had felt it before, many years ago when he had 'fired' this young man for taking a bullet from the Joker instead of him, and not long ago, when the bomb had gone off on that plain in Kansas and he hadn't known where he was. He had to make him understand. If he could. The trouble was, even _he_ wasn't certain what had motivated him that day.

Who could say? Perhaps he _had_ gone mad. He could remember it still. Nightstar had flown past him, a streak of purple pain scorching the air in the corridors of the private hospital where her mother lay dying, her small child's face scrunched in a way he was all too familiar with… her wide green eyes red-rimmed and raw. He watched as she flew out the window and up into the night sky, her high-pitched voice raised in a cry that should have troubled the heaven's. He had walked slowly down the corridor and entered the sick room to find his former ward, his dark head pressed against his wife's lifeless hand, unconscious. Overcome with fatigue, when it no longer mattered, he had succumbed. Without the boy knowing it he had laid his hand on his hair and kissed it, bidding him farewell once again, and then , without permission, had plunged a needle deep into Koriand'r's ravaged golden skin, committing the deed that would lead them to this day.

At the time it had seemed simple. He couldn't let her die. Not like all the others. Not if he had the tools to save her as he thought he had. But then, it hadn't worked. Her alien physiology had resisted the life-saving drugs which would have restored Nora Fries or any other member of his own race; drugs that should have purged her body of the virus that had laid it waste as well. So instead of saving her, he realized he had set his ward up for a life of never-ending grief, tied to at best, the preservation of a dream. And so he had remained silent. Never speaking. Never breathing a word. Bearing it alone as he had borne so many other griefs. Later, Clark had found out, but that had been a mistake.

Just as this was now.

"Dick, what do I say? How can I ~"

"You can't! You bastard, you're sick! What were you thinking? What sort of desperate game are you playing? Being God to Gotham wasn't enough, now you have to play it in _my_ life? She's …dead… and you have her on display here, kept alive by God knows what means… for what? You can't bring her back, can you? This… All of this was for nothing." The younger man advanced on him, his hands shaking, his voice a mixture of disgust and pain. "Now I'll have to lose her all over again. Did you think of that? Bruce, did you even think of your granddaughter? What this would ~ " He paused, mortified. "What will this do to her?" he whispered.

"Dick, if you'll listen," the Batman said with more than the usual patience, " I can explain ~ "

Quicker than thought the younger man knocked him to the floor. As he fell, the steel that held his broken body together protested and on the collar of Bruce Wayne's current 'costume' warning lights began to wink on and off in alarm.

Dick Grayson stood, towering over him, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his skin white as paste. A cold sweat had broken out on his hands and face making him cold. He shook from head to foot. For a moment he stood still, powerful, enraged, and then looking at the man who lay before him, he suddenly shattered like crystal crushed under foot. Falling to his knees he began to cry, great sobs wracked from his well-honed form.

"God… God… Kory. I thought this was all over. I thought…."

Still flat on his back Bruce felt the internal sensors kick in, righting his form. He sat up suddenly and remained quiet, listening to the pain and anguish pour out of his former ward. And then, quite simply, he laid his hand on his shoulder.

"Now you know why I never told you."

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Sometime later, as brilliant rays of lavender and scarlet streaked the sky without the compound, the two men sat silently within the room Bruce had chosen to use as his homebase whenever he visited the facility in the woods. The older man sat, his long expressive hands twisting in his lap while beside him Dick hugged a warm cup of decaf coffee, sipping the dark liquid more out of habit than choice.

"I think… I think I didn't think. Afterwards I realized I had …. Well, in a way I think I went out of my mind. I just couldn't bear to let it happen again."

"Again," Dick asked quietly. "What again?"

Bruce's deep blue eyes met his and then he looked back at his battered hands. "My parents. Yours. …Jason. I did everything I could. Used every resource. We had the best doctors…. And still death was determined to win." He sighed and stood, walking to the window. "I was determined it would not. Not this time."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Bruce looked at him sternly. "You don't need me to answer that. Think about it. If it worked… God, if it had worked…. You would have had her back and everything would have gone on. A child would have had her mother. You, your wife…. If it didn't, well, beyond putting you through her death a second time… Think of Victor Fries. A man who spent his life living for the dead, thinking of nothing else…." He paused and added quietly, "You've seen him, _known_ him. He was …"

"Obsessed. Unable to live but for the dying."

Silence fell between them. Bruce stood awkwardly nearby, unsure of what more he could say. Dick kept turning the cup over and over in his hands and then finally found the courage to ask, "So where does it stand now? With Kory, I mean… I assumed before… But I don't know. Is she ~"

"Dead? No." The younger man's head came up at that but Bruce put out a hand to caution him, "neither is she alive, not in any real sense. She is in stasis."

"And the disease?"

"It's in stasis too. I thought I knew how to cure it, but I didn't. Because of her alien physiology, I have had little success. That's why she sleeps still."

Dick stood and walked to the doorway, looking back the way they had come to where the silent form of his wife lay. "She isn't sleeping anymore."

"What?"

He turned and met his mentor's puzzled stare. "I've heard her. Seen her. She's been… calling out to me. I can't explain it, Bruce, but something's different. After all these years, we're…connected somehow."

"She has no brain waves. She can't even think."

Dick laughed, abruptly realizing just how near he was to hysteria. "Bruce, dear Bruce…." He drew a deep breath collecting himself and then walked over to face man he thought of as a father squarely, eye to eye. "What makes us alive can't be measured by monitors and brainwaves alone. Regardless of what your data tells you, something in her has awakened. And she needs me." Then, careful to avoid the complicated metal structure that held the man together, Dick put his arms about him and gave him a hug. Bone and metal were rigid beneath his hands, but he had expected that. He let go quickly and walked to the door, pausing with his hand on the wooden jamb.

"Bruce?"  
"Yes."

"About before. I'm sorry. I gave up. You never did."

The Batman watched him leave the room and sighed. "No. You grew up. I never did."

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How do you follow a trail ten years old, buried by time and the tide of a war that laid a world waste? For twenty-four hours Dick Grayson had occupied an uncomfortable chair behind a small gray desk pouring over seemingly thousands of hand-written medical reports, searching… looking for something that had been overlooked. He had already stared countless hours at the computer screen, but somehow, getting his hands on something made him feel a tiny bit better. Like he was doing something _real_. Pausing, he stretched and rubbed his hands over a face grizzled with the beginnings of a beard. God, it brought it all back so vividly. The horror. The disbelief. He knew no matter how long he lived he would never forget the day Koriand'r had fallen prey to the fast-acting virus that had killed her ~ that he _thought_ had killed her. Still, in all the months and years that had followed, he had never been able to establish the exact moment or place where she had come into contact with it. She had lived on the earth in relative health for so long they had supposed it to be alien in origin, but now, so many years later with his head clear, he was able to look in other directions, and at this moment he didn't like what he saw. The anti-alien, anti-metahuman movement had been in its infancy then, but his wife ~ as an alien and the mother of a human-alien hybrid ~ would have been a prime target for men sick with the disease of fear.

He rubbed his neck and then bent his head once again over the microscope before him that contained several samples of Kory's blood. Concentrating, he failed to hear a light footfall beside him and didn't notice a familiar figure standing next to him for several minutes. When he looked up he found his daughter, her wide eyes filled with tears, her golden skin pale.

"Dad."

Startled he began to chide her for interrupting him but then he saw Bruce standing in the doorway behind her, his own pale face highlighted by the halogen lights in the hall.

Obsessed. Like Victor Fries. Had it begun already? Had Bruce known him _so_ well? Suddenly ashamed, he realized that for a time he had forgotten he even _had_ a daughter.

"Nightstar, I…" His voice broke. He reached for her hand but suddenly shaken, put his head down in his hands instead.

"It's okay, Dad," she said, her voice uncharacteristically calm. "Grandpa explained everything."

That brought his head up. He shot a look at Bruce who simply shook his head and then moved away from the door.

He sighed and then asked quietly, "About?"

"He said you had found some new evidence about the men who killed Mom. He said you got lost in the research." She was pretending she wasn't hurt, but he could tell she had been really scared. He had been away a day and a half without word. Something he would have given _her_ hell about.

Dick drew a deep breath. "How did you get here?"

"Uncle Clark came to check on you on his way to meet with the President. He's here, but he has to leave pretty soon. He's going off-world for awhile." She cocked her head and looked at him, a worried expression on her pretty face. "I had gotten home and found you gone. I wasn't _too_ worried… After all, I was the one who ran out." She smiled sheepishly, her eyes lighting like Kory's used to do just before she would tackle him, pinning him to the floor with her greater strength. "I'm sorry, Dad."

"Sorry, Honey? For what?"

She looked at him and her eyes began to fill with tears. Her beautiful face drew up in pain and she began to cry. "Daddy, I was so scared…."

Dick dropped the papers he held and moved to his child, taking her in his arms. She sobbed for some time, her small frame wracked with anguish. At last, she laid her dark head aside his shoulder and whimpered.

"Can you tell me? I'm fine, Honey, if that's what you're worried about…." _Better than I've been for a long time, he thought._

She shook her head and buried it in his shoulder.

"Then what?"

"I'm afraid of what you'll find. Afraid of all of that," she gestured towards the paper trail on the desk. "Afraid that you'll find out."

"Find out what?"

Her eyes were huge, the picture of her mother's.

"That I killed Mom."

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"Man has explored the universe, broken the barriers of space and time, but the mind of a child is a mystery never to be unraveled."

"She was fairly honest with me, Dick. That's why I brought her here."

Dick glanced up at the big man in red and blue and sighed. "God, how could she blame herself for her mother's death?"

"How could you?" It was Bruce this time. Nightstar was asleep in his makeshift bedroom, having cried herself to sleep.

"I…." Dick paused, the Dark Knight's eyes hard on him. "Point taken. The question is, where do we go from here?"

"To bed."

Dick's head came up. He fixed Bruce with incredulous blue eyes and asked, "What? Now? I can't…"

"Son, from what you've said, you've been up two days." Clark folded his arms and cocked his head. "Your daughter said she found pills."

"Dick!" Bruce's voice was harsh.

Sheepishly the youngest man shrugged. "I wasn't _sleeping_ anyway. And for some reason, all Kory has been able to do is ask for help. I have to help her _here_ , in reality, not hang on to her in spirit form." He paused, his aspect puzzled. "Say, can you be haunted by a _living_ ghost?"

"That's a question for the experts. But you need to sleep," Bruce held up his hands, "not dream, _really_ sleep. Koriand'r isn't going anywhere, I can vouch for that. And you need to be awake and alert before we begin to follow these new leads. You really think you know where to begin to look now?"

"From what was in the papers… Yes, I think so. Too many people in our neighborhood reported odd goings on that week. There has to be a connection ~ something I overlooked in my

grief. " He hesitated, suddenly shaken.

Bruce moved toward him, his hand out. "Dick, what is it?"

Dick Grayson looked up, his blue eyes wide as his child's. "I could have lost Nightstar too. God Bruce, do you realize what this means? They could have _both_ been targets! I ~" A sudden sharp prick in his left shoulder made him look down and as he did, his mentor released the hypo, sending a strong drug into his system.

"I thought you didn't believe ~" But the sentence went unfinished as he lost consciousness, his strong form tumbling towards the ground.

"There are always exceptions."

Clark caught the young man before he hit the floor and effortlessly lifted him in his arms.

"I'll take him."

"No." The Batman held his own arms out and without a word the Kryptonian surrendered his light burden, watching the metal skeleton the other man wore straighten as it measured and took the weight.

"This one is mine."

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"Nightstar. Wake up. It's time to go."

"Daddy?"

A cool hand caressed her forehead. "Wake up, Sleepyhead. A new day has arrived."

"Did Uncle Clark leave?"

"Yes."

"And Grandpa?"

"He's still here. I need you to get up, Princess."

The girl yawned and stretched, glancing up at her father where he leaned over her. Sunlight was streaming in the through the open window and the rosy light of dawn played about his handsome features. It was startling, the transformation that had taken place in him overnight. He had obviously slept. The pinched grayness that had marked his face the last few days was gone and his eyes were clear. But beyond that, he seemed to be renewed. He looked as she remembered him from her childhood. Strong. Vibrant. Determined.

"Dad?"

"Are you awake?"

"Yeah…." She looked at him, unable to discern his mood. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He kissed her forehead, caressing her dark hair. "I need you to come with me. There's something I have to show you."

Feeling like a little girl, she stood and took his hand, clutching it tightly. "Where are we going?"

He smiled reassuringly, squeezing back. "To Heaven, Sweetie. To Heaven."

"Dad… is she real?"

Nightstar's hand was spread wide across the glass that framed her mother's expressionless face. To Dick the Tamaranean Princess looked like a wax doll, bereft of all the warmth and humor he had known her to possess, but to his child ~ who had not seen her mother since she was 10 years old ~ the recumbent Koriand'r must have seemed a goddess. The thick glass and preserving liquid cast a blue pall on her golden flesh. And even so preserved, the years had managed to creep silently into her Tuscan locks, streaking them with pale yellow-white like frost on autumn trees. Still, for all that, she looked no more than thirty or thirty-one ~ far younger than the years would have made her.

"Does she know we're here? Can she hear us?"

Dick opened his mouth to answer and then paused. "You know, according to those monitors and your grandfather ~ no. But here, honey, _in here_ ," he pointed to his heart, "here, I know she can."

Nightstar's head cocked at an odd angle. She laid her hand on her Dad's chest and watched him try to cover the wince. She wrinkled her nose. "Sorry, Dad. I didn't mean to hit you so hard. I…"

"You have to stop saying that."

She shook her head. "What?"

"That you're sorry. We both do. We have another chance, but it will take courage on both our parts."

She stared at her mother's face, aware she wasn't simply sleeping as it seemed. Suddenly all of the Terran stories her Dad had read to her about sleeping princesses and their awakenings came back to her and she smiled sadly. "Wouldn't it be nice if _just_ a kiss…."

He laid his hand on his daughter's hair. "I've thought of it. There's nothing I'd like more." He hesitated a moment and then asked her quietly, "Would you like to be left alone?"

"No." She looked a little frightened. But mostly puzzled. "I want you to tell me what it is you want me to do that will take courage…."

He squeezed her quickly and said without preamble. "Remember."

Her eyes crested with tears and her nostrils flared, but she nodded. She reached out for his hand and placed her other, trembling, over her mother's heart.

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"I was very little. Five or six. Mom came in my room and told me I had to be very quiet because you were sleeping and I didn't dare wake you up. I didn't understand. You had told me you would play with me when you came home that night, and even though it was very late, I thought you would still come. Mom told me ~ ordered me ~ to stay in my room and keep out of the way and she'd be back a little later to explain. I could see that she'd been crying.

"You see, even though Mom was different… not _human_ … that never dawned on me. She was just… well… Mom. Anyway, I listened at the door and heard footsteps. Someone mentioned a doctor and there was a presence that walked past the door that I could _feel_ looking at me. Pretty soon Aunt Donna was there and she came in and we played house even though her heart wasn't in it ~ I know that now ~ and then I fell asleep. When I woke up hours later she was gone and the house was still….

"I left my room then looking for Mom. She had said she would come and she didn't, so I was worried. Not about her…. Just worried. I found her downstairs on the sofa asleep. There were clothes all around her, dark clothes covered in a red substance that looked like that squiggly candy you used to buy me ~ the strawberry-flavored one ~ and long white strips of cloth. They were red as well. It smelled funny and I didn't get very close. It scared me even though I didn't know why. _Really_ scared me."

Nightstar let go of her dad's fingers and shifted so both hands lay on the glass. Her voice fell so that it was flat. She spoke without emotion as though she were watching a video of someone else's life.

"I knew something was wrong. Mom never slept on the sofa. She looked really gray and she was still crying, even in her sleep. I could hear someone in the kitchen ~ probably Aunt Donna ~ and knew I had to get back to my room before I got in trouble. I ran to the steps and flew up them, heading for my room and then… through a crack in the door… I saw you."

She looked up, focusing her eyes on the wall behind him, the memory bringing fresh pain.

"God, Dad. I thought you were dead. I crept into the room and touched your hand and it was ice cold. You were white as the sheets and your chest… even bandaged was weeping blood. It looked like a bear had ripped you open."

"Close," he whispered, remembering. Donna had almost been too late that day. "It was a beast of a sorts."

"When I called you didn't answer me. When I touched you, you didn't move. I realized at that moment that you could die and realizing that scared me enough that I began to refuse to care."

"What?"

She looked at him, her eyes round and tearless. "All these years, Dad, I've been afraid. I realized Mom and I were different. Not that we couldn't be hurt, but we were stronger, _faster,_ safer…. I began to pull away from you and put all of my trust in Mom. Oh, you got better, but it took weeks and I couldn't jump on you or play with you. Mom had to spend all of her time nursing you. I was angry and… jealous… and afraid. Every time you went out it hurt so much wondering if you would come home that I began to tell myself I didn't care…."

"Nightstar, why didn't you say anything? Why?"

"I had Mom," she shrugged. "We were buddies. Invulnerable. _Alien._ And then I had that awful dream."

"What dream?" He moved toward her, reaching out towards her bare shoulder. "What dream, honey?"

She shook her head, black hair flying. "I don't want to talk about it."

Dick Grayson took hold of his child and turned her toward him. "Does it have to do with your mother's death? Nightstar?"

She nodded unwillingly.

"Then you must. You _have_ to. Anything that might help now that there is a chance…"

His daughter shuddered and sank to the floor beside the dais. "I can't…."

"Honey, I wish your mom was here, in this position and I was laying in that crystal coffin. She could always talk to you. I don't ~ "

"Oh God, Dad, don't say that! Don't ever…" Her dark head shook violently and she hugged her shoulders as though chilled. "One thing I learned through this whole horrible mess is just how much I love _you_ and need _you_." She drew a breath and leaned against the stand behind her. " And how much I need Mom."

They fell into a silence for a moment both lost in their own thoughts.

"Do I have to tell you about the dream?"

"I think so."

She was quiet a moment and then began to speak, disassociating herself as much as she could from the horror of the memory.

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It had been dark, very dark. There was no moon, she remembered that. He had not been home, but was away working with Garth and Donna, saving the world. Or so it seemed to her. Her Mom had been talking on the phone and she had gone to bed early. She remembered her head had hurt and her throat and she had felt ashamed.

"Ashamed?" Dick was puzzled.

"Do you remember when I was very little? About three? I had the …what was it? Measles?"

"Yes, I remember. You were purple spots from head to toe."

She laughed. " I remember you counting them. I think I had a million."

"A million and one."

Nightstar smiled sadly. "Do you remember what you called me?"

He shook his head. "Not really. What?"

"Your little 'human'."

"I did? I don't remember that."

"Mom was saying something and you said the measles showed I was 'your little human'. I know you didn't mean it, but that made me think there was something 'wrong' with being human. That somehow humans were 'less' than best… Not as good as Mom… or me. I thought about it and I couldn't remember Mom ever being sick or hurt. She had stopped working with you by then so she was never injured… like you. I came to think of her as perfect… invulnerable."

"She was mortal… is mortal." He glanced behind him, still unable to take in her quiet presence.

"I know, but I didn't know that then. It didn't seem _real_ until she died."

Dick hesitated and then prompted her. "You haven't mentioned this dream."

"I know.

"I went to bed that night. Mom rocked me on the bed and gave me some remedy she said you used … honey and lemon?" He nodded. "It helped and fairly soon I fell asleep…."

"And dreamed…."

"Yes."

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 _She had been in her bed sleeping, just as she was in reality when a dark shadow had eclipsed it and someone had put their hand over her mouth, silencing her. Strong hands held her down as someone poured a stinky liquid over a cloth and pressed it to her nose. But instead of making her sleep, she found it froze her, making it so she couldn't move. She felt herself being lifted from the bed and prodded by many hands. She could feel something press against her skin but didn't feel any pain. Above her in the shadows something moved stealthily, working with a purpose and then she was lowered her to the bed again and left alone. Far away, it seemed, they began to mumble to themselves. In her child's mind she thought of alien abductions and that old show the X-Files that she sometimes watched late at night, and she tried to scream, to call her Mom, her Dad…. anyone, but no one heard and no one came._

 _Soon the room was silent and only two figures remained, cloaked in shadows and secrecy. She felt drowsy and yet curiously awake and some of their words drifted towards her._

"… _long will it take?"_

" _Not long. Two days at most ~ maybe three ~ and she'll be dead. No one will know why to begin with, but it should inspire the terror we desire. Later we will lay claim, when the time is ripe. I would rather it had been the man…"_

" _But we were told. We mustn't touch him. Too hot. Too much potential damage to us. This is safer."_

 _One of the figures drew closer, a phantom hand landing on her forehead for a brief moment as it spoke. "Still, she is only a child."_

 _Nightstar remembered lifting up her head, seeking to pierce the darkness around her, feeling the fever begin to rise in her veins and it was then she saw him ~ the demon. A horned figure that lingered near the edge of her bed, a sharp face with red eyes that flashed fire. It lifted a glowing hand and pointed at her, its voice coming in tones at once malevolent and mild._

" _No. She is a weapon."_

 _Three days later her mother had been dead._


	3. The Demon

_Chapter Three - The Demon_

Dick Grayson stood in the center of the bedroom he had shared with his wife Koriand'r and sighed. It was so empty. Had been _so_ empty for so long. Did he dare hope he would have her back again? Without thinking, he walked to her closet and looked at the colorful clothes still hanging there. Suddenly the dresses and coats seemed only pale musty imitations of the life he remembered, not a link to it as he had felt for so many years. He hadn't removed anything since her death. Donna had chastised him for that, reminding him she had suffered her own losses. With a kiss and a sad smile, she had told him he must let go, not for his own sake only, for Nightstar's _and_ for his wife. Dick laughed grimly. Sounded like what Diana had told Clark. And yet, now that he knew she _wasn't_ dead, that his hope had _not_ been in vain, he told himself perhaps he had known all along. Perhaps this had been his answer to her silent cries, and her cries the answer to the constant question of why he had _been_ unable to move on, to get her out of his mind. Why he couldn't forget her laugh or the feel of her flesh beneath his fingers.

Weary beyond words he sagged to the floor and remained a foot or so away from the open closet. They had returned from Maine late in the day, drawn and exhausted. Nightstar had excused herself and gone to bed. Bruce was asleep in the living room in the large leather chair that fronted the entertainment center. He had come home with him. He had left _Gotham_ and come with him.

Dick rested his head against the wall, feeling the warmth of the early evening sun as it shown through the window, a shaft of red-gold light caressing his exhausted form. Two days ago he had been talking about doing what Donna asked, about moving on and leaving Kory behind. Maybe thinking about dating again, remarrying. Now…. He hung his head ashamed. And he had pounded Bruce for it. Been furious that he had kept the dream alive when he himself had been about to give up.

He loved that old man. There was no one else like him. Never would be.

He closed his eyes and thought about his mentor's lonely life. Since Alfred had passed on, Bruce had become almost totally isolated with the exception of his robotic aids and the very few friends he permitted to come anywhere close ~ people like Ollie Queen and Dinah. People who were gone now, yet another victory for the eternal adversary Bruce had pitted himself against each and every day since it had claimed his parents…. And then Jason. And most likely Tim. There had been no one he had not either driven away with his intensity or lost brutally, so that when the mantle of the Bat needed to fall on other shoulders, the rack had been bare. Dick himself had put aside the notion of being the Bat long ago ~ one trial run had been enough to show him he didn't have _that_ kind of right stuff ~ but there was someone _else_ he had left behind long ago in pain and disappointment. Someone who deserved better. Now ~ along with his wife~ it was time he was resurrected.

He shifted slightly and slid his hand along the back of the closet until he felt the edge of a thick leather satchel. It rested where Kory had left it all those years ago, a decade and a half before, long before she had died. Since, in fact, that night when his child had come upon him wounded and near death. Then, after many months of healing and introspection and some hard choices ~ plus several years off to watch his only child grow and blossom into a beauty ~ it had seemed a new beginning was required, something to separate him from the pain of the past and a new costume to deal with a new era of hostility and violence unlike anything he had ever known. But now…. Now it seemed the past was fated to live again.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Nightstar woke up on the sofa next to the man she called Grandpa and murmured. She had been unable to sleep, unnerved by all that had occurred, and had crept downstairs to lay her head on the lap of the older man as he slept. Now his hand was on her head as she stirred and a faint smile crossed battle-scarred lips as they parted to whisper.

"Good morning, Nightstar."

She smiled sweetly, like a little girl. "Grandpa. Thanks."

Sabled brows rose slightly, arching like the wings of a hawk. "For?"

"Mom. Not giving up on her." She hesitated a moment, a curious look crossing her young features, dimming their brilliance. "Like Dad did."

Bruce Wayne shifted so he could face her and gave her a stern look. "And how did you come to that conclusion?"

"She died. He buried her. He could have done what you did."

"She died. He buried her. That is the natural order of things." He paused, drawing a deep breath, feeling every one of his fifty-plus years. "This will be hard for you to understand at your age, but what your father did ~ in the face of the inevitable ~ was far braver than what I did. Mine was the coward's way out. Your father has faced and survived a great deal of pain. Me… I simple refuse to face it."

She looked at the old man, seeing the faraway look that flashed in his eyes and thought she had never seen him look so vulnerable. Usually he was hard as steel and stronger than Superman. She said simply, "I don't understand."

He touched her hair and smiled gently. "I hope you never have to, child."

"Bruce."

The silver head pivoted sharply towards the stairs and what he saw there made him rise to his feet, his only grandchild all but forgotten. Before him a vision from the past, a strong lean figure attired in black and deep royal blue hesitated on the bottom landing, a bat-shaped mask tightly covering his attractive features, a brilliant yellow bird symbolically winging its way across his chest.

Nightstar stood beside her Grandfather, her mouth open. He was absolutely more handsome than she had ever seen him. "Dad, I haven't…. Isn't that the costume you wore with Mom …. and the Titans?"

Nightwing moved down the steps deliberately, his muscular form grace itself. 'Yes. And in their honor I wear it again." He walked up to her and touched her face. "And if ~ _when_ your Mom wakes up ~ I want her to recognize me. Red Robin came along later. He served his purpose, but this….

"This is who I am."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"I'm ready to go, Bruce."

Back in the bowels of what was once the Batcave and what had still, since its exposure, served as Bruce Wayne's headquarters and high-tech lab, the two men prepared to begin the search for Kory's killers. Bruce was sitting at the massive computer watching a multitude of small figures scroll past him in a wild dance while Dick Grayson, attired as Nightwing but without the mask, stood staring silently at the small glass case that held the old Robin costume worn by his successor, Jason, the young man who had died at the Joker's hands.

"Bruce? Are you ready to go?"

The older man swiveled around in his chair and folded his hands in his lap. He waited until the his former ward turned to look at him. "Before we get started I have something to tell you…. You aren't going to like it."

"What?" Dick walked up to his mentor and stood with his hands on his hips. "If you think you are going to stop me… because of the injuries or anything else, you won't. No matter what…."

"No. No." The older man held up his hands. " I have no intention… and no _right_ to stop you. I just wanted to let you know your focus may be wrong."

"My focus? What do you mean by that.? I'm going to get the men who killed ~ who tried to kill Kory." Even now her continued existence at the small lab in Maine seemed unreal, more a dream than the times she had appeared, ghostly pale, seeking his help.

Bruce drew a deep breath. "Sit down, son."

Dick realized this was something very important and without another word pulled up a chair, straddling it, his hands hanging over its leather back. He sat in silence a moment and then prompted, "Well?"

"I think Nightstar was meant to die. Not Koriand'r. Her death was a mistake."

"What! Bruce, I ~ "

"Hear me out." Bruce stood and began to pace, his mind collecting and categorizing all of the facts he had been fed over the last few eventful days. "Would that your child had spoken 10 years ago. Her 'dream' might have been ~ well, may _still_ be the key to this whole thing. Think about it. Your wife suddenly develops a deadly virus. We have never known the source. Now your child relates this tale of nightly intruders, men who 'examine' her, seem to inject her with something."

"Bruce, that dream could have come out of a 'B' movie. It's an ancestral archetype. It's why so many people have claimed to have been abducted by 'little green men' over the years. You can't take it seriously." He paused, really angry. "Nightstar was safe in our home."  
"Like your wife was safe?" Dick bristled and Bruce held up a hand. "Only making a point, son. Something got to Koriand'r. Some _one_ got to Nightstar."

Dick was silent a moment. He could feel himself trembling. "God, in my home?"

"I think these were very ingenious, very _clever_ men. Now, tell me, you said odd things had been happening in the neighborhood? Things you didn't recall until now?"

"Yeah." Dick ran a hand through his black hair. "Nothing important, really. Break-ins. Petty theft. People were pretty jittery though. Of course, Kory said she could look out for the two of them." At Bruce's look he added, "And she could~"

"Under normal circumstances. What else?"

"There were power-outages. Security systems compromised. Strange lights. That's why I didn't think anything about this dream. Once I thought about it, Nightstar had plenty of fuel to create that scenario."

"But what if it wasn't created? What if it actually happened?"

"Kory would never have let anyone in our house."

"Did you ask Nightstar where and what her mother was doing immediately before or after the dream?"

"No."  
"You might want to. I believe someone entered your home and infected your daughter with the virus that killed your wife, never knowing it would threaten Koriand'r. And what is more, I don't believe this was the first time."

"God, Bruce! What!" Dick stood abruptly, kicking the chair away

"Think about it. Nightstar was already sick. Sore throat, fever…. In a child who hardly ever was sick."

"She had the measles."

"Yes, she did. And that may have been what saved her life. Her immune system had already battled a human virus and won. Koriand'r had no such protection. Being alien, she had no natural immunity. Like the Native Americans who perished when the white man first came to their shore, she had no way to fight back. Her system was ravaged and shut down."

Dick began to pace, his mind flying furiously. "So what about the words in the dream, " _She is a weapon_?" That sounds like the attack ~ if attack it was ~ was aimed at Kory or me."

"Could be." Bruce sat back down and placed his hands one on either side of the large chairs' arms. "Tell me, what would have happened had Nightstar died?"

The younger man stood still facing the horrible possibility. "I would have…. Well… Kory would have really been lost ~ "

"And what if she had discovered the child had been murdered?"

Dick looked at his mentor knowing where his mind was going. Kory's savagery had always bothered him. He knew there was blood on her hands. "Bruce… Kory wasn't like that anymore. You know she wasn't. She had left all that behind long ago."

"Even if pushed? Even if _manipulated_? What if both you _and_ Nightstar had died?"

He shook his head remembering the time she thought the Wildebeast had mortally wounded him. "She would have lost herself."

"And been a perfect target for the anti-alien agenda. If she had gone mad with grief, or even been made to _appear_ to have done so, she would have been an effective tool in their campaign to rid the world of _everything_ alien. You _both_ would have been."

Remembering the rage he had felt after Kory died at the hands of an unknown, unseen assailant, he felt once again the anger that had overwhelmed him and remembered at the time that he had been almost thankful there _was_ no living creature to direct it towards. What would Kory have done? Had the person who dreamed up this insane scheme known her better than he? Would she have killed again?

He sat back down, feeling the strain of the last few days. His hands were trembling. Bruce handed him a sandwich from a tray that had mysteriously materialized beside him.

Startled Dick gazed at the white bread and ham like it was a snake. "Where did this come from?"

His mentor smiled and nodded his head in the direction of a small fastidious robot that was wheeling itself away. "Silent butler."

Dick smiled, remembering the old man with fondness. "Definitely not related to Alfred then, eh?"

Bruce nodded. "Subtle but sharp as steel that old man. I miss him."

The two fell into a long silence, comfortable with each other and a little surprised by the feeling. Finally Dick spoke, his voice breaking, "So, who do you think it was?"

Bruce shook his head. "Not enough facts."

Dick stared at him, knowing the man all too well.

"Bruce? What is it? What are you _thinking_?"

"Well," the older man laced his fingers again and bowed his head. "Nightstar said the man in the dream had a _demon's_ head ~"

"Oh God. Ra's al Ghul."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Sometime later Dick Grayson approached his house. He stood outside the door hesitating. The night air was cold. Fall was already on the move and soon the snow would fly burying the land beneath its cold white shroud. They'd buried Kory in the Fall. Running his hand over his face, he sighed. How did he talk to Nightstar about this? How could he try to seek information without confirming her worst fear, that she _did_ kill her mother? He knew her. Knew her well enough to be certain that even though the fault had not been hers, even though she had been used by unconscionably evil men, she would still take it on herself as _he_ had always done. She might have her mother's eyes and powers, her walk and way of smiling, but soul deep she was like him. He had paid for so many years of doubt and insecurity ~ what could he do as a father to help his child avoid the pain?

Taking a breath he opened the door slowly and glanced across towards the fireplace. Two figures sat there silhouetted against the glistening coals. One was his child. The other, the dark figure he had seen frequently in the hospital ward at the Manor, the heir presumptive, the usurper, the son of the Bat: Ibn Al Xu'ffasch.

The grandson of the man who had murdered his wife.

Unbidden, a rage rose in him such as he had never known. Not even when Kory died. He had heard before of men seeing red, of them losing control. Had even been privy to jail-house confessions where the prisoner had repeatedly claimed 'temporary insanity', saying he didn't remember doing what he was accused of. But he had never believed it until now. Suddenly his child was screaming and he awoke to find himself near the fire, his strong hands around the young man's throat, his own voice distorted and raised in a howling cry filled with ten years of pain and loss. Nightstar was pleading with him, begging him to back off. Around her slender form lavender light pulsed showing that she was holding her powers in check, not wanting to harm him, but frightened that he would harm the young man he held so tight. Frightened that he might kill.

And Ibn was not even the one responsible.

Drawing another breath, Dick Grayson released the tension on the young man's throat, but didn't let go. He couldn't let go. Not yet. Before him the face that was so like Bruce's stared at him seemingly unperturbed. It showed only a shadow of fear, and beyond that a masked curiosity. His pulse _was_ racing. Dick could feel it under his hands where they pressed against his skin, but beyond that there was nothing. He either knew no fear or knew his assailant so well that he _knew_ he wouldn't kill.

Dick only wished he knew himself that well anymore.

"Nightstar," he said quietly, his voice rasping, "leave the room."

"Dad! NO!" She shook her long black hair and stamped her foot. "No! You let him go. We'll leave together."

Dick didn't look away from the predatory eyes that held his face, seemingly fascinated. Neither of them flinched. The young man was strong. In good shape. With youth was on his side. But he wasn't trained like Dick had been. He knew better than to try to escape. Dick opened his mouth to shout, but the moment he became distracted, the young man's hands came up toward his throat and with one swift impossibly fast movement he was clear. Self-possessed, he stood several feet away making an adjustment to his brocade vest, having earned a new respect from his adversary.

Ibn cleared his throat and tried once or twice to make a sound before saying quite clearly, "Nightstar, please, do as he says. As you can see, I am in no danger. Your father was merely," he held Dick's blue eyes as a strange smile lit his dark face, "startled. Obviously, there is something he feels needs to be said."

"And why can't I stay?" she pouted.

"It would be inappropriate. This is between two men. Your presence is not required."

Dick's eyebrows went up at that one and he shot a chagrined look at his daughter waiting for the explosion.

"What?" was all she said.

Her father waited. She must have been stunned into inaction. By now her mother would have had his head.

Ibn walked toward Nightstar, stopping to seek her father's permission before going to her. Dick merely nodded and backed away, curious about this young man who in many ways would have had every right to take his place at Bruce's side. _Had_ , in fact, in the last conflict on which he and his mentor had chosen to fight on opposing sides. Inclining his head in gratitude, Bruce's natural son moved toward his daughter and reached for her hand.

She didn't withdraw it, but she didn't offer it either.

He kissed the hand and bowed to her, offering his apologies and then quietly whispered something in her ear that made her smile, a silly winsome smile like a little girl who has just been caught with her hand in the chocolate cake. Then she caught her dad watching and in mock indignation shook her head, rolled her round green eyes and exclaimed, "Men!" as she turned and made her exit from the room. "I'm only going to the kitchen," she said as she walked away, feeling Ibn's eyes on her lovely form, "so don't get into any shouting matches." Then she threw over her shoulder as she vanished through the door, "And Dad, behave yourself!"

Silence filled the room with only the sound of the log in the fireplace cracking and popping as it crumbled into burning embers that flamed purple, red and blue. Dick stared at them, remembering the trail of fire his wife left as she sped away from him. If the fates were kind, he would see it again.

"Mr. Grayson ~ "

"Yes…." He started, unaware of the passage of time. "Forgive me…"

The young man's hand went up. "It is nothing. First of all, sir, let me say I understand your resentment of me…."

Dick's brows went up. "Oh, you do?' He crossed his hands before him on the mantel and looked at the picture of Kory there, young and vital. Beautiful. He drew several deep breaths to slow his wildly beating heart and then laughed ruefully, "Do you? I doubt it."

"I would never seek to take your place."

Dick thought about that one for a moment. What did he mean? With Bruce? Or here? In his home? "Where? With my daughter?" he answered at last, sure that _wasn't_ what he meant. "She's old enough to make her own mistakes."

Ibn paused at that as though reassessing his adversary. He indicated the wingback near the fire. "If I may…."

Dick waved him towards it, but remained standing himself. He waited a moment and when the young man didn't speak but only stared into the glowing coals, he asked. "So how well did you know Ra's al Ghul?"

"Grandfather?" Ibn hesitated, as though truly surprised, "Is _that_ what this is about?"

Finally a question instead of a statement. His calm assurance had been getting on his nerves. Who was the adult here anyway?

"Well?"

The sharp eyes focused slowly, and for once he spoke haltingly, as though at a loss to communicate what he had seen and known. "I knew him. He was an old man. He lay in a large bed surrounded by candles and the ghosts of all he had lost and all he had not accomplished." He paused and then finished, "His dream died with him."

"Did it?" Dick moved away from the fire as it grew too hot, his eyes on this young man. He could see Talia in him, her sharpness, that touch of an oriental cast to the eye, but he was Bruce's son, there was no doubting that. If nothing else, the mind would have given it away. He could almost see the wheels turning. But, what kind of a creature was he? "And what of you? Do you believe in this _dream_?"

Ibn pursed his lips and then replied, "In principle. Look where all that we have accomplished has brought us. Look at this world about us. I remember the faces in the hospital ward ~ one of them was yours ~ battered, burned, without hope. Scarred beyond recognition and care. Is it such a mad dream to want something else?"

"At the expense of human life, yes. Ra's didn't care who he used or who he hurt to get what he wanted." Dick paused unsure of the next thing he was going to say, " _You_ are his grandson."

"Yes, and I am Bruce Wayne's son." The dark eyes sparkled, "And whose blood do you think will out?"

Dick sucked in a breath making his decision, and then casting his eye toward the kitchen where he heard his child humming and moving about as though fixing tea, asked suddenly, "Could we step outside?"

"Is that a challenge, sir?" the young man's eyebrow cocked at a familiar cast.

"No," he shook his head, "an invitation. I don't know how I feel about you and my daughter. I've only just gotten her back. I'm not sure I am ready to …share…. But you and I are not enemies. You helped me. You have helped Bruce. Walk with me. I need to ask you about something. Maybe you can help me. Help Nightstar _and_ her mother… maybe not. Will you come?"

Ibn stood, his eyes keen and alert, and smoothed out the lines of the dark cape he wore. Indicating the door with his hand, he said, "After you, sir."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Nightstar watched the two men walk out of the house, a small war going on in her heart. Ibn had told her that her father would do this. That he intended to talk to him about their relationship and that it was only proper she not be in attendance. She had laughed. Sometimes, he was like something out of some old romance novel. Like she had to have her Dad _approve of_ whoever she wanted to date. Really. But Ibn had said it was important to him. That he needed the approval, even if she didn't understand.

Men were weird. It was a shame so many of them were so darn good looking and so much fun to be with. She smiled at the memory of her Mom talking to her in this very room about them when she was little. Her dad had done something that had really ticked off the red-headed alien and she was fuming. Nightstar had innocently asked her why she had married him and she had stopped, suddenly going all soft and funny. Her mother had then laughed deeply and said the Earth expression of 'Can't live with them. Can't live without them' about said it all.

Suddenly shaken, she sat down the cup of cocoa that was in her hand and plopped into one of the chairs at the kitchen table feeling light-headed. Her Mom was alive! And she hadn't even thought about her the whole night, not _once_ since Ibn had arrived. Frowning, she grabbed a pad of paper and scrawled a few words on it and with a bolt of purple fire, flew off into the night.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Nightstar?" Fifteen minutes later her dad came back into the house and called her. "Princess, where are you?"

Ibn emerged from the kitchen, the same pad of paper in his hand. "Apparently she grew bored waiting for us. She has 'gone to see a friend'." He handed it to Dick, who frowned. "It says she will be back shortly."

The older man shook his head. "She's always been impulsive." He began to shed his outer clothes, revealing the dark suit beneath, and as Ibn watched, transformed himself into Nightwing once again.

The young man hugged his cape tight about him, and looked off into the distance. "Perhaps there is something she fears if she stands still too long."

Dick put his mask in place and turned to face Bruce's son. "And what would that be?"

"Herself."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Mom. I miss you so. Please come back to me."

Nightstar stared at the quiescent face beneath the glass. She could remember her mom clearly and yet, for some reason, it seemed she looked at a stranger. She remembered playing with the hair that billowed and waved in the thick liquid beneath the transparent lid, braiding it and placing it high on her head. She remembered the lips kissing her goodnight, the hands holding and rocking her to sleep. But still, this woman, this beauty who slept seemed almost an apparition. A promise.

A dream.

Her Dad hadn't had any nightmares since Grandpa had told him the truth. Was she still there? Still awake? Still calling? Or had she given up? _Did she think they had?_

"I'm here, Mom. And we won't give up. I swear, no matter what. We won't give up."

Outside the room she heard a stir of motion and turned her head, trying to pierce the darkness. Had her Dad followed her? With Ibn? She stepped off the dais and began to walk toward the door.

"Dad? Grandpa? Is that you?"

"Hardly little one."

She turned to find a dark figure standing behind her, cloaked in shadow. It's voice was unfamiliar and yet cut from the same mold as Ibn's. The accent was soft and warm.

"Who are you? What are you doing here? Do you know my grandfather?"

The words were barely out of her mouth when she heard a whistling and felt something strike her upper arm. She looked down to find a feathered dart piercing her flesh. As a strange weariness began to overcome her she staggered. Reaching for a chair and missing it, she plummeted to the floor.

"We are here to finish what was begun.

"Bring her."


	4. Reunion

_Chapter Four_ _:_ _Reunion_

For the second time in two days Dick Grayson stood before the glass sarcophagus which had held his wife's body in stasis for ten years, his heart pounding, his mouth opened in disbelief. Only this time, there would be no promise of a happy ending.

Koriand'r was gone. The containment unit had been cracked open like an egg and the various wires and tubes which had fed her sleeping form, rent asunder. Like the life that had been left her, the pale blue liquid which had surrounded her, protecting her like a sleeping babe, was slipping away; each drop silently dissipating as it fell farther and weaker from the source. Above his head, monitors which had recorded signs of life ~ though weak ~ were black.

Dead.

Bruce Wayne clung to the shadows but remained close to his former ward, his mind awhirl. Someone had to have known she was here. They had to have breached security ~ shut it down in fact since no warning had sounded ~ and then entered and left with the speed of lightning. And they had to have been prepared to transport her, weak as she was. Unless all they were interested in was a corpse. Still, he thought _that_ unlikely.

Why take her at all then?

A frown marred his pale patrician features. Again the same answer presented itself and again

~ though unwelcome ~ it seemed the _only_ possible answer. His steel blue eyes sought out the other slender black-haired figure in the room and rested there. But did he have proof? Bruce's frown deepened into a scowl as his eyes moved to where Dick remained frozen.

Did he need it?

A moment later, Nightwing shook himself and moved woodenly to place his hand on the empty pallet which had held his wife. His mentor watched him carefully, weighing his silence. Considering the insane roller-coaster ride Dick had been on these last few days… months…. With the deaths of so many of his close friends, the loss of his somewhat innocent ideals and the serious, almost fatal injuries he had sustained ~ to say nothing of the wounds to his soul ~ he wasn't sure he wouldn't crack. Within the metal skeleton that held his own weakened frame upright Bruce steeled himself for the worst.

Nearby Ibn watched the scene unfold in silence. No stranger to loss.

Dick stood for several moments motionless, letting the dream go. He had lived without her for ten years. He could ~ he _would_ ~ survive. But the sorrow he now felt washed over him in waves of frightening intensity, threatening to undo him. Was it worth it? The fight? Death always won in the end. Always took the prize it wanted. First Bruce's parents, then his. Then Donna, Garth, Roy, and all the others. Now Kory. Only the man who waited in the shadows behind him seemed capable of escaping its fatal embrace. Only Bruce. And Bruce had tried to pass that on to Kory, bless him. But he had failed.

She was gone. And he had to go on. Find who had done this.

Make them pay.

Without a word Dick bent his head and began to examine the wet pallet where her body had lain. He began to look for clues as he had been trained, setting aside his emotions, thinking of nothing but the task at hand. He bent beside the dais and began to look for footprints, running his fingers over the wet sticky tile, searching for a stray hair, a piece of cloth, anything that might lead him to her killers.

Ibn shifted on his feet without saying a word and looked at Bruce. Father and son locked eyes, holding still, uncertain as to what to say or do. An unusual feeling for them both.

Finally Bruce shook his head. It wasn't time for that yet. Ibn looked away and the man who was Batman turned to his elder 'son' and broke the silence.

"Dick."

Nightwing ignored him, but the muscles in his back tensed. " _No, Bruce," he thought, "don't. Don't give me hope again. I'm not sure I can bear it. Bruce…. Please…."_

"She may not necessarily be dead."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

A world away a dark-haired girl awoke trembling and frightened. It was dark and she could tell she was not where she had been before, at the STAR facility in Maine. The air was different, harder to breathe and it smelled odd. The sounds outside were foreign to her ears but not to her imagination. She could hear the cry of wild dogs and fantastic birds that winged through the night, and felt the ground shudder with the passing of larger bodies that trumpeted their protests at the square stone buildings that had risen out of the land to blot their ancient hunting places.

Shifting, she drew her legs up under her and reached out to steady herself on the cold stone floor of what she was beginning to understand had to be some sort of cell, but as she moved her hands, she saw they were individually bound in some way. Concentrating, she was able to make out a thin delicate band encircling each wrist. Amazingly, as her mind cleared, the bracelets grew brighter until they pulsed gently, casting a soft pink light about the room. Instinctively she knew they had to be some sort of power-dampeners. That must be why she felt so weak! They were sucking the solar power out of her. It was as though whoever had kidnapped her had known she would be there at her mother's side.

For some reason that thought frightened her very much.

Rising to her feet, she glanced to her right and caught sight of a small narrow window ten feet off the ground. She crossed and stood under it, aware that it was too narrow for even her small form to pass through, but nonetheless she rose into the air so she could look beyond her prison. Outside the rough stone wall the night sky was ablaze with a million stars and below on the horizon, she could just make out what seemed to be outlines of tall palm trees ripe with fruit. There was also motion there, but she couldn't see who or what cast the shadows in their passing.

Somehow she didn't think she was in Kansas anymore.

Thinking of that old movie her Dad used to watch with her made her strangely sad and she sank back toward the floor. She had grown really close to him these last few months while she watched over what at first she had feared would be his deathbed, and then over his healing. Closer even, she thought, than she had been to her Mom. _That_ had been the closeness of a child and her Mommy. She had been denied learning to know her as a person. As the wife of Dick Grayson. As Starfire of the New Titans. Perhaps now….

Suddenly fear gripped her heart stopping it cold. Hadn't she been with her Mom when these men had overtaken her? What had they done? She could remember the sound of glass shattering and the feel of a crisp ice-cold liquid on her fingers and feet. Sinking to the cold hard floor she curled into a tight ball, throwing her arms about her knees. They'd killed her… Without the support of the tank she had to be dead, didn't she? Terrified she began to cry uncontrollably, tears running down her smooth cheeks in streams. Soon sobs wracked her youthful frame.

She cried long and hard, not expecting an answer and so was startled when one came. Unexpectedly, a word drew her attention, forcing her to hold in the tears and draw a breath against the surprise. Someone was calling her name.

"Nightstar," an unfamiliar voice whispered in the darkness, weak and without power. The girl wiped her eyes and stood, softly approaching the source which she placed on the opposite side of the room near the window. As she moved past it, a stream of starlight struck a slender form stretched lengthwise across a dirty straw mat. A slender form swathed in lavender and silver cloth. A slender form capped with mounds of auburn hair and two round emerald eyes without pupil or iris that mirrored her own.

Nightstar gasped.

"Mom?"

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"She may not necessarily be dead."

Nightwing remained where he was, resting his weight on one knee, feeling his world flip once again. "Bruce…." he growled warningly, "Bruce, don't. I can't ~"

The man who had raised him, who had taught him all he knew about survival in the best and worst of circumstances, left the shadows to come to him and lay his hand on his shoulder. "Yes, you can. Yes, you will. You' re strong ~ "

"Am I?" Dick looked up, his blue eyes full of unspent tears. "Am I?" He crushed in his fingers the remnants of a part of Kory's gown, caught and rent by the shattered glass. It had blood on it. "I don't think I can take anymore, Bruce. I'm only human. This is too much." The tears began to run down his cheeks as he ran his hands across his neck, his face, touched his forehead. "Bruce, I ~ I don't. I can't…."

The older man knelt and taking him in his arms, simply held him while he cried.

Several yards away, feeling strangely intrusive, Ibn al Xu'ffasch began to circle the room. Cautiously and with purpose, he skirted the two men who were in fact strangers to him and yet kin, and with eagle eyes began to search, careful lest he find more than he cared to.

"Bruce," Dick said at last, pulling away and pulling himself together, "what do you mean? How can she possibly be alive when she's been _ripped_ from all that sustained her? Don't give me any _false_ hope….. "

"Did you notice the white in her hair?" Bruce asked flatly, ignoring the torrent of pain he had just witnessed, fearful lest it unleash a tempest of his own _. "Be practical," he thought, "draw him back."_

"What?"

"Her hair. Did you notice it had changed?" His ward was looking at him now, his eyes focused.

Dick frowned. "Yes. So?"

"Think. Nora Fries. Did she change? Did she grow older?"

His former ward shook his head. "No. She never changed. That's what the cryogenic bath Freeze kept her in did. It froze time." Dick glanced up to where his wife had lain. "I thought you said this was the same…."

"Similar. Not the same. We were not idle all of these years."

"We?"

"The scientists at STAR who helped me with the computations, the serums, the anti-virus technology." Bruce laid his hand on the edge of the dais and sighed, "Each year we would remove her, treat her and wait. Each year we would put her back. During this time she aged. Unfortunately, nothing we tried worked. There was no cure. The best we could do was leash the monster."

"Meaning?" Dick rose to his feet, straightening his costume.  
"As I said, the chamber is designed to hold death at bay, to keep the body out of time and out of danger while a cure is sought. We didn't cure her, but we took her back to the beginning of the disease as we sought its origin. The last time I saw her she was as she had been on that final day."

Frowning, Dick locked eyes with his mentor. "So what does that mean for Kory now? Today? _This minute_?"

"It means that unless they killed her getting her out of the containment unit, she is alive. I can't say yet how long she has been gone, but from the time she was taken from the liquid, she should have one or maybe two days at least before succumbing again to the disease that killed her ~ that _almost_ killed her so long ago."

"Make that two," Ibn spoke without warning from the dark shadows beyond the dais, his strong voice shaking with something that sounded like rage. "They have not been gone more than two hours at most."

Bruce whirled to stare at his biological son, his adopted son beside him. Dick advanced down the steps towards the younger man. "Why do you say that?"

Ibn stepped into the light thrown by the twisted and broken spotlights that had lit Koriand'r's resting place and held out his pale hand. In it was a small metallic object shaped roughly like a crown, a single lavender jewel sparkling at its center.

"Nightstar was here. They have them both."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

" _Mom?"_

The woman who lay on the straw mat shifted uncomfortably, as though her body were stiff and sore. She made soft small noises that indicated she was feeling great pain, but refusing to acknowledge it. In spite of this, she sat up straight, making a prop of the wall behind her. Great green eyes fought to focus and a voice, weak but determined addressed her, sorrow shining through the answer. "No. I'm sorry. You're not my child. You're too old."

The girl moved forward, puzzled. Who _was_ this? It couldn't be her Mom…. _Could it?_ How had she survived?

"I thought…. I thought I heard my little girl crying. I thought _you_ …. I was mistaken." The voice was husky, deep and tinged with anger. "Why have you brought me here? _Where is my child?"_

Nightstar blinked and drew a deep breath, moving forward so the light from her manacled wrists touched the figure before her, illuminating a face at once familiar and strange.

"Please," Kory whispered, tears streaming down her golden cheeks, "tell me where she is."

The dark-haired girl dropped to her knees beside the other woman and held her hands out. "Mom…." She smiled as tears welled in her own eyes, overflowing. "Mom, it's me…. _I am_ Nightstar."

Fire blazed briefly in the Tamaranean's eyes, only to be replaced by pain. "My child is ten years old. You must be at least twenty. You can't ~"

Nightstar sighed, biting her lip. How could she prove it? What could she say? She rocked back on her heels and took a moment to think as her dad had taught her. Her instinct was to rush forward and enfold this woman in her arms, but she was just beginning to comprehend the daunting task that faced her. They were strangers. Even more than she and her Dad had been.

At last she said, "Can you tell me the last thing you remember?"

Koriand'r's eyes grew cloudy and she looked away, a faint smile on her lips. "I was home. I had just spoken to Dick ~ my husband ~ on the phone. He was on his way home. Nightstar," she frowned at the young woman who seemed impossibly familiar before her, "my _child_ was in bed. She was sick. I had just taken her something to eat… some soup, I think and…." She hesitated, gingerly shifting her weight as though any continued contact with the ground was too painful. "And then I was here."

"I waited on you…." Nightstar whispered, her eyes growing wide as she was suddenly catapulted back to that awful day. "I waited and waited. You had told me not to get out of bed. I guess I had been out of my head with the fever the day before. I remember Dad even told me I had flown in my delirium. I was really weak. I wanted to get out of bed, to see if you were okay. I was afraid…." She paused, tears spilling anew down her smooth cheeks. "You never came. _Ever_ again."

Kory's frown deepened which made her head hurt. She lifted her hand to her forehead only to find it fitted with a device similar to the ones that encircled this young woman's wrists. The cool pulsing light from the device struck the young woman's raven-colored hair, highlighting her deep lavender costume even as she closed her eyes and lowered her head toward the floor.

"Later than night, after the sun was down," she continued, "Aunt Donna came in and sat with me like she did when Dad was hurt. She had been crying again, like that time. I asked her where you were and she said you were with Daddy. I believed her. I didn't find out until the next morning that he had come home to find you unconscious on the staircase, barely alive and had rushed you to the special unit at STAR where they tried to save you. But you died…." The girl began to weep uncontrollably, raising her dark head to stare at the red-headed woman who sat quite still before her, listening as horror struck her heart.

"Mom, you _died!"_

The eyes were her own. Great green eyes, only framed instead by ebon hair and the semblance of Dick Grayson's handsome strong-boned face. She gasped, unable to take it in. "Nightstar, is it you? _Can it be you?"_

Sobbing the child fell into her mother's embrace and Koriand'r's form forgot its pain as she held her, marveling at such a wonder.

"How very touching. Almost as though you had _real_ emotions." A snide and sinister voice echoed through the room, coming from a hidden speaker. Both women involuntarily looked up towards it. Terrified, Nightstar clung to her mother as though she feared she might simply vanish into thin air without warning.

"To bad the reunion is destined to be short-lived." The voice paused, issuing orders and then it finished, "Bring them to me."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

At Ibn's words Dick had nearly gone out of his mind. Bruce had finally managed to calm him by assigning him a task which made him feel as though he was accomplishing something. He was busy examining the few clues they had found: An unknown substance left by one of the men's shoes, the cloth from Kory's gown; her blood, as well as a few stray hairs caught on one of the pieces of glass. It wouldn't occupy him long, but it would keep him busy long enough for Bruce to do what he had to do.

Speak to his 'son'.

"Ibn."  
"Yes." The young man halted where he was and turned. That was it. He used no name. Gave Bruce no title. What _were_ they really to each other.

"Ibn. Where are they?"

The grandson of Ra's al Ghul shifted his feet. In his hands Nightstar's headband twisted between restless fingers. "Why do you ask me?"

"Because you know."  
Ibn looked up and met blue eyes hard as flint. He opened his mouth to protest, but then shut it just as quickly. He hung his head. "How long have you known?"

"That you were involved somehow? _Personally?_ Not for long." Bruce circled him, his voice growing harsh, "Just since we arrived here." He stopped moving, settling on the lower step of the dais and crossing his arms. "I guess I was wrong about you."

Dark eyes met his, their feelings veiled. "About me? How?"

"I thought you were different." Bruce sighed. "I thought even with Ra's', even with Talia's blood, that you had to have _something_ of me in you." His voice rose in anger, taking on a frightening edge, "But if you could do _this. To him_ … _to her_ … Then I was wrong about you. Terribly, horribly wrong."

The young man pivoted, his lean face ghostly pale. He held his hands out in protest. "It is not what you think. I would never ~ "

Furious Bruce backhanded the youth throwing him several feet across the room. Even debilitated as he was from years of bone-crushing crimefighting, aroused, he was a still a terrifying sight. Ibn inched away, wiping his mouth where red blood crept from its corner to mar perfect white teeth.

"How dare you? Is there _nothing_ of me in you? Are you all Ra's? Even your mother ~ _his_ daughter ~ had some decency in her. She was at least loyal to her own! If you have harmed either one of them….."

His voice had risen in volume as he had grown powerful in his anger. Several rooms away Dick Grayson heard his former guardian shout. Puzzled, he dropped the sample in his hand and went to see what was wrong. When he arrived on the scene he was surprised to find Ibn on the ground and Bruce's hands sullied with the blood of his son.

Ibn's hands were before his face and as Bruce approached he continued to protest, not plead. "It is not what you think. Do me the justice to allow me to explain…."

Bruce's hand was raised again to strike, but Dick caught it, holding him back.

"Dick, let me go," his mentor said through lips tight with rage, "he has betrayed us."

"Bruce, this isn't the way. Unthinking violence never is. Whatever you two are arguing about, it can't be worth abandoning your ideals." He held the other man's arm, panting against the exertion of keeping it still. "Bruce, I've never seen you like this. What is it? Tell me!"

Bruce Wayne drew a deep breathe and let it out slowly, releasing the tension in his arm. As he watched, Nightwing leaned down and offered the other man a hand, slowly helping him to his feet..

"I believe…" he started, refusing to let go of the distant possibility that for the first time he might be wrong. _"God," he thought. "let me be wrong."_ He drew a breath and then continued, "…I believe we have the answer to Koriand'r's kidnapping in hand. Ibn, am I wrong?"

Ibn's black eyes didn't flinch. He met his birth father's stare with equal strength and answered.

"No."

"You have to understand," the young man began, his hands clasp together in his lap, his strong frame bent beneath the angry glare of twin pairs of cold blue eyes. "I had no part in this." He glanced up at Bruce, noting the well-known scowl that was directed at him for the first time. "I swear it."

Bruce said nothing. They stood within the confines of the room he used as a study having retreated there after Ibn's confession. Dick had almost taken him apart. The young man's disheveled clothes and mussed hair were out of keeping with his usual image, but they belied the fact that he probably had several cracked ribs and quite a headache. It was odd, Dick's rage had somehow quieted his own. Reason had returned and he had pulled the two of them apart, holding Nightwing back until he found his own sense again. Then the two of them had brought Ibn here to question and to listen to him. As he spoke Bruce studied his face, looking for something of himself; seeing only Talia and the dream of a life together. A life much as the one his ward had had which had been stolen away by a madman's scheme.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer and anxious to begin the search for his wife and child Dick snapped, "Well? Go on. What _do you_ know then?"

"I know there is little time, but the tale must begin at the beginning. I was raised, not by my birth mother," he glanced at Bruce, the look bearing no condemnation or acceptance, " ~ or father ~ not even my grandfather whom you both disdain, but by a middle class family who adopted me after I was left on a mission doorstep. They were average people, much like your parents, Richard Grayson, and if not in class, still like yours…." He hesitated, still feeling strange with the word, but wishing to employ it, "…Father."

Dick grabbed a chair and thrusting it against the wall, sat down. What was Bruce thinking? Why was he letting this go on? They needed to move!

"Go on," the older man coached.

"In this way I was raised to believe in God. In the values of society. In love and justice and caring for others. Until I was eight years old."

"That was when Talia came for you?" Bruce scowled, still angry that she had hidden this boy's existence from him. What he could have done with him…. What potential wasted… All lost due to a woman's fancy.

"No. That was when my grandfather's men came for me. Mother knew nothing. She thought I was still with my adoptive parents." He drew a deep breath. "Would that I had been…."

"Bruce…." Dick protested, but a hand stayed him.

"There's time, Dick. This is necessary." Bruce pinned him with a familiar look. "What was it I taught you to do before heading out on a search?"

"To gather all information possible." He stared at Ibn, feeling mixed emotions. Rage. Disbelief. Jealousy. That last one startled him. "Is he right? Do we have time? Or will they …harm them?"

"Not immediately." He raised his hands in protest when Dick started in anger. "I believe they want to study them. But I will be brief. I wish to find Nightstar and her mother as much as you do." The earnest look in the young man's eyes almost convinced Dick. Almost.

"How can we trust you?" Bruce asked.

Ibn sighed. "Ah, that _is_ the question. And for me, the question is instead, 'How can I make _you_ trust me?'" His dark head shook and he went on. "I was thrust, upon entering my grandfather's world, into the most stringent of indoctrinazations. I was taught his principles, his beliefs and for a time… For a time, they became my own. He… _they_ … became my world. Your parents were taken at about the same time, Mr. Grayson, and you were adopted by this man. Did you ever question his principles?"

"No. They were right."  
"And how did you know that? By what scale did you measure his beliefs?"

"By my conscience. By right and wrong. I know justice from injustice."

"As do I." Ibn stood and walked a few feet away, careful not to give the illusion that he was running. "That was my salvation. I knew right from wrong and Grandfather ~ though I loved him for all the good he taught me… literature, art, music ~ Grandfather was evil. Something in my heart told me this even when I did not understand. Even when I followed and approved his methods. Even when I met this man, " he indicated Bruce, "face to face for the first time." The young man inclined his head. "But that is another story."

Bruce almost smiled. "Yes. It is."

"But what does this have to do with Kory? Bruce…" Dick protested, growing restless again. "We need to _move_."

"Yes, Ibn, we do. Finish your tale now. Quickly."

"When very young, about twelve or thirteen, I remember meeting a man who rapidly rose in my grandfather's organization. A strong powerful man, easily able to influence others. He shared my grandfather's beliefs with one small difference. He wished, as did Ra's, to cleanse this planet and take it back to what it had once been, primeval, lush, _pure_ , but he blamed its decadence and decay not on _man_ but on the aliens who had come to live among us. He believed that they had brought upon us the wrath of the gods and his sacred duty was to rid the world of their like." He glanced at Dick and swallowed. "He especially hated any who mated with them, sullying the line, producing children that were…

 _sub-human_ , as he put it. He believed that they should be publicly punished and their offspring eliminated."

Bruce frowned. "This was ten years ago?"

"Yes," Ibn answered glancing at Dick who had suddenly fallen silent.

"What happened to this man and his mad dream?"

"For a time he succeeded," his son answered, "and then he died."

"Died? But then how….? Who is this now then? Who has Kory and Nightstar?" Dick rose to his feet, approaching the young man, his fists balled in fury. "TELL ME WHO!"

Ibn turned, the light from Koriand'r's ravaged support system spilling through the door and highlighting his sharp features as he locked eyes with the father of Nightstar.

"Like Lazarus from the tomb, I am afraid, he is back."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Nightstar awoke again, disoriented. She opened her eyes on the same dark cell, but a quick survey of it told her she was alone. The straw pallet on the far side of the room was empty and her resurrected mother nowhere to be found. Abruptly, she found herself challenging what she knew for reality. Had she only _dreamed_ of being reunited with her Mom? Had she been so devastated by witnessing the destruction of the containment unit that she had created her own fantasy and brought her mother back to life?

It was more probable than that her mother lived.

A trained detective, she began to work her way around the stone cell, searching for clues to either prove or disprove the memory. As she reached out to turn the mat over, a sharp pain darted through her right arm forcing her to cradle it against her chest. She bit her lip and then carefully uncurled the limb, gingerly running her other hand along the smooth lavender cloth until she found a small rent and realized it had been cut. Walking over to the window she lifted into the starlight and pulled the fabric away to reveal several needle punctures covered by a crude bandage.

So, someone had taken her blood. She closed her eyes, listening to the soft sounds of the world outside as she sought to quiet her wildly beating heart. What were they hunting? What could be in _her_ blood?

A sudden noise startled her so she turned just in time to watch two men pitch another figure into the room and then slamming the solid cell door, vanish. A low moan greeted her, followed by a soft sigh. Nightstar descended to the floor and quickly crossed to what she knew had to be her mother. The older woman looked tired and weak. Fatigue pinched the edges of her large eyes and pain etched lines in a forehead meant to be smooth and clear. A small tear escaped her eye as she spotted the girl and her arms reached out.

The young girl fell into her embrace and they sat in silence for some time, the only sound in the cell that of tears of joy.

"Sweetheart," Kory whispered at last, planting a kiss on her grown daughter's black hair, "are you all right?"

"Mmm-hmm," the girl answered, feeling a little child again.

Kory was silent a moment and then she asked, her voice very still and quiet. "Nightstar, is…. Is your Dad okay?" Her voice broke as she asked and more tears fell.

Her child drew back, sitting up and looking at her, her jade-green eyes wide. "Dad? What do you mean?"

"Is he ~ alive?"

Nightstar sucked in a breath. Ten years gone. This woman had no idea what had happened. Thank X'Hal she hadn't asked about the other Titans. Thank God her father _had_ survived.

"Daddy's fine. Though you might not know him." She gestured towards the pale yellow stripes that ran the length of Kory's long red hair. "He's got more of this than you do. Snow on the mountain- top, you know?"

Kory leaned back against the stone wall, obviously exhausted. "He's be over forty now. So would all the others. Donna, Roy…." She looked away and so missed her daughter's grimace at the name of her beloved Aunt and Uncle. They were all gone now. Someday she would have to know. But not now…. Not here.

"Dad was… well… hurt this year."

Koriand'r's head came back to her, terror in her eyes. "Is he all right?"

Nightstar hesitated. "He's almost mended, and he's friends with Grandpa again."

Kory frowned. "Grandpa?"

Her daughter laughed. "Bruce. After you… after we thought you were dead they kind of mended fences. They didn't see a lot of each other but I got to know him… and Alfred." Her face grew long and then she finished, "After Dad was hurt, he and Bruce became friends again."

"Alfred is dead, I take it."

"Yeah. A _lot_ of things have changed Mom. I ~"

Koriand'r put her finger to her daughter's full lips and whispered, "Shhh. If you are all right and your Dad is all right, that's _all_ I need to know for now. We have a lifetime ahead of us to make up for the years we have lost."

That made Nightstar ask the question she had been afraid to ask. "Are you… OK now, Mom?"

The Tamaranean princess shook her head. "I don't know. I don't even know where I have been all of these years, or who…? Did you Dad ~?"

Nightstar shook her head. "We were told you were dead. It was Gramps…."

Koriand'r's eyebrows arched even more than normal. " _Bruce_ saved me?"

The young girl grew sober. "He really loves Dad, I can see that, even though he tries to hide it. There's more to him than he wants you to know. He's not as careful with me. He lets his _real_ feelings show. Like how much he really loves _both_ of his sons."

"Both. You mean Tim?"

Nightstar wrinkled her nose. There was another one she'd have to find out about. "No, I mean Ibn."

Her mother shifted her weight again, noting the light that filled her daughter's eyes at mention of this person's name. "And just _who_ is Ibn?"

The girl smiled, her white teeth showing. "Got a couple of hours?"

Speeding through the night sky over rural Maine, three men held silent vigil in the belly of the largest of the vast fleet of Batwings owned by Gotham's eccentric millionaire, Bruce Wayne. Once upon a time it would have been necessary to have concealed his secret identity when seeking permission to enter foreign air space, but since the destruction of the Batcave and the revelation of his alter ego, there was no need. Now he was able to accomplish openly many things as Bruce Wayne that the Batman would have had to procure covertly. Having just received permission to leave the vast area patrolled and maintained by the United States government, he steered the plane out over the coastline heading for the ocean that separated them from other continents and the mystical land of the Sudan. The land traditionally associated with Ra's al Ghul, the Demon's Head.

Spinning in his seat after having engaged the auto-pilot Bruce fixed his eyes on the pair who sat quietly conversing over the remnants of two steaming cups of hot liquid. They were very alike. Enough so that they could have been brothers. Blood or not, destiny had made them so.

"Ibn. Dick."

Startled they glanced at him. Ibn picked up his tea and took a sip. Bruce could smell the faint odor of spice in the air. As the young man drank, Dick replied, "Bruce."

"We are heading for the coordinates you have given us, Ibn. What next?"

Steady hands set the cup down and long fingers joined in a steeple before his thin elegant face. "As I was telling …Dick…."

Dick grinned and shrugged. " _Mr. Grayson_ was making me feel like I was my own grandfather."

Ibn nodded. "Yes. As I was telling him, this _man_ ~ the one who plotted the demise of his wife and child ~ worked on the translation of the plague wheel with my grandfather a decade ago."

"The wheel that started the contagion?" Bruce felt anger well in him. Though they had never proven it, they feared that was what had at last claimed Tim. He had gone on a reconnaissance mission with the CIA and never returned. The last his partner had seen of him, he had been ill and exhibiting some of the signs of the fatal disease. "The Clench devastated Gotham, you know."

"I was young at the time, but yes, I was aware of the evil perpetrated by my grandfather using the information stolen from the Order of St. Dumas. This man, Siddig el Ahmuhd, was one of the men responsible for breaking the code. All others Grandfather had executed immediately, but Ahmuhd was spared lest some new difficulty arise. He was very respected and very high up in the organization. My mother detested him." A frown marred his forehead and his voice darkened as he continued, "What Grandfather did not know was that Ahmuhd was a traitor, working for himself. He had stolen knowledge from the wheel and began to experiment on his own with variations of one of the viruses, hoping to develop something that would leave humankind untouched, but instantly destroy anything alien to our DNA."

"And you knew about all of this?" Bruce's tone was stern, though what he could have expected a fifteen year old boy to do about it, he wasn't sure. Still, Tim had only been fifteen when he was Robin and he had done mighty things.

"No. Not then. Not for many years after. My mother was given the task of hunting him down and took pleasure in his execution."

Dick shuddered and then looked up at Ibn with a strange sorrow in his eyes. "But you think he ~ or his followers ~ found one of the pits and managed to get him back there."

"There is no other answer. Fourteen months ago rumors began to circulate that Ahmuhd was back, stronger than ever, with a new organization but the old purpose. I am certain he was involved in the escalating xenophobic fear that led to the final conflict in Kansas…. though as always, he himself remained hidden behind operatives, in relative safety." Ibn looked at Dick and then at Bruce. "It was for this reason that I first began to shadow your grandchild."

"What?" Dick frowned. "What about Nightstar?"

"From my mother I knew of the attempt on her life from before, of the death of your wife and… of her awaited resurrection." At Bruce's look he added, "Do not think anything in your life escapes my mother's eyes. It was at her prompting that I joined Luthor's group and her hand was in _our_ meeting. She set me to watch over your 'interests'. She did not count on my falling in love with one of them." Before Dick could add anything, Ibn added, "And now, I have failed her."

"Failed?"

"I can think of no other way that Ahmuhd could have discovered the location of Koriand'r's sleeping place _or_ known that Nightstar was there. The watcher has been watched. I have been _used_."

"…by your mother?" Dick asked, glancing at Bruce, but there was no reaction there.

"I would hope not, but…. She _is_ determined that I be the sole heir to her 'beloved'. In that one area, she _is_ blind. And perhaps, a bit mad."

"Mad?" Bruce moved closer, certain of what he would hear, but hoping he was wrong. Had she been _so_ stupid?

"Those who use the pit must pay the price. Perhaps she will find absolution where she is now. I can only hope." Ibn turned to look at Dick, inclining his head so his hawk-like eyes shone black as onyx. "Still, consider yourself warned."

Bruce stared from one dark face to the other and then his deep blue eyes rounded. Shocked he met his ward's determined stare, frightened of its intensity. "Dick, you mustn't consider ~ Someone has to be there. With her power ~ "

Dick stood, facing him across the roar of the engines and the gulf of understanding.

" _I'll_ be there."


	5. Ruin

_Chapter Five: Ruin_

"Do you love him?"

Nightstar leaned on her mother's shoulder. Side by side they sat on the rough straw pallet their captors had provided them with. Koriand'r's arm was about her daughter's shoulder and the girl snuggled in close. A minute passed and then two. Just about the time her mother began to wonder if she had fallen asleep, she drew a breath and sighed, "I don't think I know what love is."

Koriand'r looked down at the top of her child's dark head and wondered what she had seen and heard all of these years that she herself had been deaf and blind. What had wounded her so, at such a young age? Surely more than her own supposed death? But then, thinking of her grandfather and his lifelong quest to make fair what his child's heart had declared unfair, she reconsidered. Then again, Bruce had been left totally alone. Nightstar had had Dick, hadn't she?

She sighed, wondering what scars were on his soul.

"Mom?"

"Yes, Sweetheart?"

"How did you know you loved Dad?"

Koriand'r resisted the urge to laugh. _That_ was a loaded question if ever she had heard one.

"Did you know right away?"

The Tamaranean paused, uncertain of what to say ~ not because she didn't _know_ the answer to the question, but because of _who_ had asked it. What sort of an example would she set when she said yes? And _why_ had she loved him so swiftly and so totally? Before she even knew him and the kind of man he was? It was as if in that moment two halves of one soul came together… at least for her. A joining far more powerful than anything she had shared with Karras or Ph'yzzon.

"I had just escaped from years of torture and abuse. Your Dad…." She was going to say he reached out to her, but that wasn't the truth. He had been a friend, a _good_ friend, but it took much introspection on his part to realize that _he_ loved her too. "Oh Sweetie, I don't know. I just _knew._ First we were friends and then…. It just grew. I wanted to be with him, to be loved _by_ him. I knew I would have died for him."

Nightstar nodded. She was very quiet.

"Is it that way with… Ibn, was it?"

Her daughter shrugged, and then nodded again.

Silence fell between them, punctuated only by the sound of a small troop of men passing just without their window. At last Kory asked, "Ibn al Xu'ffasch? That's an unusual name. What does it mean?"

The girl's eyebrows arched and she swallowed. "Son of the Bat," she said finally.

Her mother's brows echoed her own, brushing henna-colored bangs. The edges of her full lips turned down in an expression her child read as disapproval.

" _Really_."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"You do realize what you are contemplating is incredibly dangerous? There's no way to calculate the variables."

Dick met the dark stare of the young man who sat nearby him. Bruce was grabbing a little sleep before they landed in the Sudan and he and Ibn had fallen into conversation, talking quietly about their respective childhoods, about love and loss.

Stretching his arms back behind his head so the yellow bird on his chest seemed to sigh, the older of the two answered flatly, "Yes."

Ibn pursed his lips and steepled his long fingers. He looked over them, his eyes seeing something in the distant past. A sight not soon forgotten by a young child. The last time his grandfather had entered and emerged from the Pit before going irretrievably mad. "I would not choose to go into the Pit."

Not sharing the vision, that statement surprised the man he spoke to. "No? You are the natural heir." Cautiously, Dick took a sip of the hot drink at hand, wrinkling his nose at its perfumey taste. Then as he sat it down he asked, "You don't want to live forever…? So to speak."

Smiling at his reaction, Ibn answered, "To have the privilege to outlive all that I love? Or to force them to endure death and then arise with the promise of madness in order to remain with me?" The young man shook his head, the memory still fresh. "I think not."

"Yes. I understand. I wouldn't chose it either. Nor want someone else to choose it for me."

"You don't want to live forever?" Ibn asked, echoing Dick's own question.

"No. I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Still…" Dick fell silent for a moment, fingering the china cup. "… would your choice ~ _could it_ ~ be the same if it was the only way to save the one you _loved?_ Could you let them die when you _knew_ you could do something about it? _"_

"Ah," straight lips saw the echo of a smile, " _there_ you have me."

Once again silence fell between them as Ibn sipped the jasmine tea and Dick tried to decide whether or not he wanted to hear the answer to his next question. He glanced back at the bunk Bruce occupied and then at Bruce's son. They were very alike, and yet so _unalike._ Curiously, Ibn seemed better balanced, less fanatical and driven. Given his parentage it was hard to understand.

"Do you love my daughter?"

Dark brows furrowed and white fingers shifted on the steaming cup. He took a deep breath and answered without preamble, "Yes. I believe I do."

Dick nodded. "I thought so."

Still again they fell silent. Ibn put the cup down and toyed with the crust of a small finger-sandwich. He stared at Nightstar's father, a man he admired very much, even more so since he had seen him fight back from the edge of the grave. "And what, sir, will you do about it?"

"Kill you." Ibn's brows rose. He started to speak, but Dick held his hand up and laughed softly. "If you ever do anything to hurt her. Other than that, I am afraid there is very little I can do. She is over eighteen and I think the feeling is mutual." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Of course, now, once we find her mother ~ there might be a little bit of a problem….."

"Oh?"

"Well, you are Ra's al Ghuls' grandson, and she knows how many times he tried to kill Bruce, as well as me…. And…," he hesitated, unsure of how to proceed, "…well, I'll spare you her opinion of your mother. Suffice it to say it was _not_ favorable."

"I see."

"And beyond that…. Well, you _are_ Bruce's son." Dick shrugged. "They were never the _ideal_

in-laws."

Ibn smiled. "Then I shall undertake the task to prove I am _not_ my parents. I consider it a challenge well worth the effort, and I thank you for the privilege of having a hand in restoring her to you and your child." He took a bite of the sandwich and chewed for a moment before adding, "I only hope it can be done without benefit of the Lazarus Pit. Her alien physiology is an unknown The mix of chemicals and poisons are meant for a _human_ host…."

Dick grimaced, clenching his fist. "I know. Still, if it is the _only_ way…."

"If it _is_ , then I will lead you there."

" _Bruce's son!"_

Nightstar winced. "He's very nice…." She protested meekly.

"I'll bet." Koriand'r shifted and stood, bracing herself with a hand on the wall as her head spun. Standing tall, she crossed with all the grace she could muster to the narrow barred window and stared at steel posts anchored in concrete block. "Have you tried to bend or break these yet?"

The girl glanced up. She hadn't even thought of it. Slender as she was, she knew she couldn't wriggle through the less than a foot wide opening. Her mother _certainly_ couldn't with her over six foot frame.

"The opening's too small to get through."

Koriand'r looked back at her. "Concrete shatters."

Nightstar stood and walked to her side. "Yes… But I have no strength. These stupid bracelets," she held her hands up, the narrow bands still pulsing a pale purple, "they're sapping all of it." She inspected her mother as the starlight streamed through the window illuminating her handsome face, noticing the dark circles beneath her eyes and the tight set of her jaw. "You don't look so hot yourself."

Koriand'r closed her eyes for a second and then fixed her eyes on the window. She wasn't feeling so 'hot' either. Or in another way, she was. She could tell her temperature had risen and she was beginning to feel off-balance… disoriented… like she didn't _quite_ belong to the body she was in. That ~ in and of itself ~ made escape from these madmen paramount. She would not lapse into a coma and leave her child alone with them to do X'Hal knew what with her.

"I am not as strong as I should be," she said at last, "but _together_ we might be able to accomplish something. Can you concentrate your starbolts so they are a narrow line, much like a laser?"

Nightstar nodded. "I remember my training."

Koriand'r smiled at her. A broad proud smile. "Good girl. Then let's get at it."

Sometime later mother and daughter returned to their bed of straw exhausted. To the naked eye in the dim light of the cell it seemed they had accomplished nothing. But the weary pair knew, two hours steady work had weakened the mortar between the stones and begun to wear away the edges of the metal bars that framed the small bit of the outside world they were privy too. While they had worked, wary of discovery, Koriand'r had constantly surveyed the distant land, and as she did, had calculated just how far they would have to fly before finding shelter from hostile eyes.

Unfortunately, it was all too far.

Beyond their window the compound itself stretched some two hundred yards, its perimeter surrounded by a mesh fence and electronic devices that winked in the night like the eyes of a predatory cat. Just within this enclosure, a small ugly building housed the dozen or so white-robed men who seemed to be always on the move, constant as drones. Normally, the fence would have meant nothing to them with their ability to fly, but so long as they wore these bracelets, they would be forced to move on two feet, losing any advantage they had over their captor's watchdogs. Weak as they both were, it was not likely they would get far before being recaptured.

Still they had to try. If Koriand'r had learned anything through the long years of torture and slavery she had endured, it was never to give up. If she had, she would never have escaped from the Warlords, never made it to Earth, never met Richard Grayson or had this beautiful child who lay so still within the circle of her arms.

Twenty years old!

She still could not believe it. More than ten years of her life lost. Her child grown. Her husband left alone to be both mother and father. And then to have slept through this terrible conflict that Nightstar had only hinted at. One that had apparently changed everything forever. One that had almost ended her husband's as well as her child's life. She shuddered as she felt the reality of waking to a world without them strike her almost physically. There was obviously much her daughter was omitting. Information she was not willing to share here, in this place. Laying her hand on her child's, she decided she would have to be content with that for now. Dick was alive. Nightstar was alive.

That was all that really mattered. The rest could wait for another day.

That was, if she made it another day. Even sitting still, her head was buzzing and her throat felt sore. She could tell her fever was mounting and she was beginning to have to fight the urge to shiver. Glancing at the window, she knew their next attempt would have to be their last, else she would never get her child out of here.

With a sigh, she lay her head back against the stone wall and thought of her husband, aching to feel his arms about her. "X'Hal, please, let me see him again. Just once…. That's all I ask."

"What Mom?"

Startled, Kory looked down to find her daughter awake. She hadn't realize she had spoken out loud. "I'm sorry, Sweetheart. I was just thinking about your father."

Nightstar murmured and pulled her mother's arm closer about her. "He's great, Mom. You'll see him. He'll come for us, I know he will."

Koriand'r smiled. "Yes. I know he will too." _If he's just in time._ She paused, listening to her child's heart as it beat evenly against her breast. "Nightstar?"

"Yes, Mom."

"Months ago, when your dad was injured…. Did he almost die?"

The girl's head came up and she shifted into a sitting position a little apart from the Tamaranean princess. She stretched and yawned and then met her mother's eyes. "Why do you want to know?"

Kory's tone was firm. "Answer me."

Jade green eyes blinked. This wasn't the soft-spoken _Mommy_ she remembered. Shortly, she answered. "Yes. It was _really_ close."

Koriand'r laughed, a sort of small gentle huff that surprised her child.

"What could you possibly find _funny_ about that?"

Her mother lifted her hand and waved that thought away. "I'm sorry, that must have seemed heartless. I don't find it funny at all… just _odd._ I think I knew already."

Nightstar squinted trying to make out her Mom's face in the dim light. Maybe she was becoming delirious. "Mom, you couldn't have. Grandpa said you didn't even have any brain waves…."

"And G _randpa_ is always right? I see he's trained you well in the years I have been gone." Koriand'r fixed her daughter with her great green eyes. "Bruce doesn't know everything. All of these years that have passed have not been totally blank for me. When I think about it, there were times…." She paused and took a deep breath. "Times when I have been aware of life going on about me and _without_ me, even in that tank. I don't think your 'Grandpa' understands much about the soul….."

"Were you ever out of the tank? I know Grandpa tried to 'cure' you…?"  
"I remember…" She frowned and shifted so she hugged her long legs with both arms. "Yes. At times I was released. I think I thought them dreams and my dreams, reality. Maybe that explains it." She sighed and took a deep breath before continuing. "Not long ago ~ or so it seems ~ who _knows_ when it was… I thought I saw…. Well, at the time I just thought it was a man, but now that you say your Dad has…. Well, this." Releasing one of her hands she touched the pale yellow-white streak that ran the length of her Tuscan tresses. "I think I saw him."

"How? Where?" The girl shifted onto her knees. "What was he doing?"

Koriand'r's eyes grew distant. "Dying."

Nightstar's eyes narrowed and she frowned. "What did you see?"

"A great battle, the likes of which have decided the fate of many a world. Fire and light, flame and sword. Everything was a blur and it seemed as though I looked through another set of eyes. There was a man on the field of battle, dressed in black and red and yellow. His head was shattered. It looked like your Dad, but the hair was gray…. here," she raised her hand to her temples, golden fingers flying back towards her ears, "and here. For a moment I seemed to see him standing above himself, staring straight at me and then he was gone. That's all I remember.

"I wonder if I was out of the containment unit about that time."

Nightstar ducked her head and avoided her mother's eyes. "I don't think so…."

Koriand'r ignored what she knew to be a sore subject with her child, remembering the brief vision. "Then perhaps we met on some other plain, one we shared for only a fleeting moment. From that time on I seemed to sense someone near me, even as I slept. I remember trying to call out, thinking it might have been your father. I even thought I saw _you_ once."

The girl bolted upright, her eyes wide. "Dad's been having nightmares about you too!"

Kory's winged brows rose. "Nightmares?"

"Uh, well, dreams. I guess I call them nightmares because they scared _me_. You were always calling out to him, trying to reach him. I think it's what got this whole thing started. Why Grandpa told him you were alive."

"Oh." The golden woman was only half-listening when suddenly the meaning of her daughter's words got through. "You mean he didn't know I was still alive? Bruce didn't tell him?"

"Grandpa said he didn't want him to become like…Mr. Freeze… I think it was. You know, obsessed." The girl paused, remembering too. "No, we didn't know. Not until two days ago."

Without warning, the full impact of what had befallen her husband and child slammed into her with the physical power of a Gordanian battleship. To the ones she loved, she had not been asleep for ten years, but dead! A bone-deep ache filled her being as though _she_ had experienced the loss instead of them. X'Hal! How had Dick survived? When they met again, would he even _be_ the man she had known? Suddenly, fatigued or not, she knew it was time to go.

If she waited, she might never see him again. Just one kiss, she prayed, and a chance to say goodbye. That was all she asked.

"Nightstar," she inquired abruptly, "Are you rested?"

"Yes. At least I think so."

Koriand'r helped the girl to stand and pointed to the narrow window where the first pale streaks of sunlight were beginning to thread their way through the thin cracks they had made in the mortar.

"Then let's go."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Several miles from the camp, beyond the lush greenery of the oasis it nested in and behind a steep ridge of barren rock, the Batwing silently glided to the ground. Ibn had provided the coordinates, bringing them in close to the ground, well below the sophisticated net of radar and motion detectors bequeathed their adversary by his grandfather's demise. This had been one of Ra's favorite places in his last years, a simple, small and yet well-defended base deep in the heart of the land he loved so well. Here he had spent much time with his daughter Talia ~ and once he had allowed her to reclaim her child by the Bat ~ with their son. Ibn was well familiar with it, with the sound of the hot wind sighing through thick palm fronds and the whisper of wild four-footed sureness on the sand. So when the traces of what had been left by the kidnapper's shoes turned out to be that particular _variety_ of sand, he had decided this special place would be the one Ahmuhd would retreat to, hoping to establish himself as the true successor to the Demon's Head.

Nightwing stood in silence watching the rising sun color the sand, the shadows moving from a deep blue to a velvety purple and finally to a golden-red as the sun rose on the other side of the ridge. Somewhere out there his family was waiting for him to find them. If God and luck, as well as skill and determination were with them, they might be reunited before the sun set on that evening. If not, by sundown, there might be nothing left.

Nothing at all.

A hand fell on his shoulder and he turned, expecting to find Bruce. It was instead Ibn, and for just a moment with the dawn light striking him just so, the resemblance between the father and son almost overpowered him. This must have been how Bruce had looked when he first donned the cowl: Young and inexperienced, but on fire to see that all that was wrong was made right.

"We will find them. I will not rest until we do."

Dick smiled and briefly touched the young man's hand. "That's my plan too."

"Are you two ready?"

Dick pivoted and even though he had seen the sight a thousand thousand times, still stepped back when confronted with the Batman incarnate. Bruce had donned his heavily-armored black suit complete with working wings and was just pulling on the solid gloves made of Kevlar III, the strongest and most impervious fiber known to man. Beside him he felt Ibn suppress the impulse to bow. It was the right response. They _were_ in the presence of royalty. The Batman was indeed a _king_ among men.

Finding their voices, Dick and Ibn acknowledged they were ready to move on, but the mouth beneath the Batman's cowl turned down at the corners as he surveyed his first partner's attire. "Is that your old costume, Dick?"

Dick glanced down at his Nightwing suit, blue and black as always. "Yeah. Why?"

"Perhaps you should wear one of mine. That fabric is well past its time. Anyone here could have bullets or blades that would slice it like soft butter. And you ~" he turned on Ibn who fell back a foot before his father's strong presence. "You should stay with the plane. You look like you're ready for a night at the opera. Not a fight to the death."

"Bruce… _Father_ ," the dark-haired young man insisted politely, "you _need_ me."

The Batman met his eyes and countered without missing a heartbeat. "I need you _alive_."

It was the closest he had ever come to admitting his feelings.

Ibn inclined his head, understanding , and then white teeth flashed in a somewhat feral grin. "I am not so without defense as it seems. This," he indicated his deep gray cape, "is made of the same _stuff_ as your gloves, perhaps better. It is an invention of Grandfather's. And this," here he tapped the delicately embroidered brocade vest he wore, "is bullet proof as well." The young man then lifted the silver-headed cane he was wont to carry. Caressing a piece of the elegant metal-work he triggered a hidden latch. The end of the long stick opened and a slender rapier slid from its ebon interior. "I have this and … other weapons which are not so easy to discern. I have also been trained in most forms of the martial arts from the age of eight. I imagine I could sweep the floor with you if I so desired."

The Batman simply continued to stare at him, impressed but not showing it.

"Or maybe not." The young man grinned and bowed, resheathing his elegant weapon. "Needless to say, I am not incapable of defending myself. You do not think I made it to this age without surviving at least five or six attempts on my life?"

His father nodded. "No killing." His eyes were on the rapier.

Ibn inclined his head. He hesitated imperceptibly, "As you say, Father."

Not entirely satisfied with that answer, but accepting it for the moment he turned back to the former Boy Wonder. "Nightwing, I am still uneasy about you. If there are weapons, move back. Let me take them out first."

"Gladly," the other man grinned, "I'm just along to find my wife and child. You two can have the fun of breaking open the heads this time."

The Batman glared at him for a split-second and then nodded. "Agreed. Ready, gentlemen?"

Nightwing and Ibn looked at each other and then at the legend who awaited their answer.

"Lead on."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Near the outskirts of the fenced-in compound two slender figures made their way from building to building, clinging to what shadows the early morning sun cast. When they were about ten yards from the mesh barricade, Koriand'r stopped her daughter's progress with a hand to her chest, keeping her from stepping into the waxing light.

"Mom, what is it? There's no one here. Now's the time to go!"

"Nightstar, are you always so impulsive? One would think you were sixteen! Use your head." When the girl continued to stare at her, no comprehension in her eyes, and opened her mouth to protest again, the Tamaranean princess sighed and held up her hands. "What do you think these are?"

"I told you, they're power 'zappers'."

"And what else do you suppose they might be?"

Nightstar shrugged. "The next wave in electronic jewelry?"

Her mother rolled her eyes. " I _do_ hope that was a joke."

The girl tossed her black mane. "A lame one, yeah."

Koriand'r laid her hand alongside her child's cheek. "Think like your father taught you to. What would you use something like this for?"

The girl wrinkled her nose and thought about it a minute. "Well…. It kind of looks like the collar we used to keep on Commander."

"That's right." Commander had been Nightstar's dog when she was a little girl, not so affectionately named after her late Aunt, Koriand'r's sister. As a puppy the animal had been particularly fierce and hard to bring to heel. Dick had made the comparison without thinking one day and the name had stuck. "And what was it for?"

"So we always knew where she was," the girl answered without hesitation, the light only then dawning. "Oh."

"Yes. _Oh_."

"I guess I should have thought of that."

Koriand'r smiled softly. "You _have_ been a bit distracted… with reason."

The girl returned her smile. "But Mom, if they know where we are…" Nightstar peered carefully around the side of the building, scanning the length of the fenced-in area that was visible from their current position. "Then why aren't they here?"

Her mother nodded. "Precisely. Something isn't right here."

The dark-haired girl continued to stare. "Maybe they're busy with something else."

Koriand'r looked at her daughter, her mind suddenly whirling. "Maybe…."

Nightstar drew a breath and turned to confront her mother. "Maybe Dad's here, and Grandpa."

Kory smiled. "Maybe. But I don't think we better hang around to make certain of that. We need to get _you_ out of here."

"Me? What…me? _What about you!"_

The older woman sighed. "Think about it. It took the two of us just to loosen the bars on the window and to push out a five foot section of the wall. Neither of us can fly. _Really fly._ Maybe if I propel you, you can _leap_ over the fence."

"Mom, no! I won't leave you. Never!"

"Both of us won't make it, Honey. Think!" Koriand'r took her daughter's narrow determined chin in her hands. "They _have_ to know we're here, but I think they believe you are as weak as I am. They've made a mistake. Most of what we accomplished with the window and the wall were because of _you_. You have more power than you think. And they have made the same mistake. You aren't alien, not really. You are something more. They haven't counted on your human side and the strength you have naturally from your Dad."

Her daughter frowned. "You make it sound like its something special."

"What?" the princess demanded.

"Being human."

Kory was startled. The young girl before her was in deadly earnest. "Nightstar," she said quickly, glancing behind them, "I'm not sure I believe what I am hearing, but we really haven't time for this now. If your Dad has arrived, this may be the only chance we have, while everyone is distracted. I want _you_ out of here. But understand me," she looked her daughter straight in the eye, scolding her, "some of the finest beings I have ever known are human. And it _is_ special. The human spirit is indomitable. Humans have the ability to rise far above what might be reasonably expected of them. They have no super strength or extraordinary powers, and yet men like your father and your grandfather are on an equal with the likes of Superman. I have never met a braver man than your father for the very fact that he _is_ human."

Nightstar ducked her head. "I always thought we were better than they were."

The corners of her mother's mouth turned down sharply. "If you were ten years old again…." She hesitated, curbing her anger. Now was not the time. "Where did you _ever_ get an idea like that?"

The cowed girl opened her mouth to answer, but just then an alarm sounded. Whether or not the bracelets were tracking devices, they had been missed. Kory met twin jade eyes, much like her own and said quickly, "Now or never. Get away. Bring help."

"Mom, I ~"

She kissed her child on the head. "I love you, Nightstar and I promise I'll be here when you return. Now, give me your foot and _fly!"_

Nightstar took one last look at this woman she had thought she would never see again and placing her foot in the her cupped hands, gathered all of her strength into one tremendous jump, flying straight into the air, riding the air currents over the fence toward freedom.

"I love you, Mom."

Koriand'r watched her land and waved her on. She could hear the tramp of feet behind her. With one last lingering look, the girl disappeared into the shadows of the trees.

"Royal to the end, I see, Tamaranean. Sacrificing yourself for your half-breed whelp."

The princess turned to find a tall well-muscled man standing behind her, a curious tube-like device attached to his gloved hand. His dark blue clothing was mostly covered by a long flowing cloak the color of blood, and on his head he wore a mask fashioned of ebony. Like the Egyptian God Anubus it bore some resemblance to a jackal, but so stylized was it with eyes of ruby red and gold inlays that defined feature and bone, that it gave him the appearance of a demon from some nightmare vision of Hell. Koriand'r stood and dusted off her knees, straightening the soft silvery gown she wore. The burst of energy needed to lift Nightstar over the barricade had left her winded and light-headed, but she refused to give in to it. Gravely ill, burning with fever and weak from lack of food, her dignity was still intact.

"I will go with you," she said simply, offering no resistance.

"There was never any choice."

The man pointed the odd device at her and released some sort of trigger. Momentarily an electrical charge jumped from its end, striking her. White light danced through her hair, over her lips and ran down her legs. With a gasp, she fell to the ground. Her body twitched once and then she lay still.

From the topmost part of one of the trees that lined the edge of the compound Nightstar watched her mother fall. About her the monkeys that lived in the branches screeched and howled, frightened by the electrical display. She shrank back behind them and continued to stare in horror as soldiers cloaked all in white from head to toe turned toward the sound. Within minutes she knew the search for her would begin. She had to go. Her mother had just given everything she had to give her this chance. She couldn't waste it.

With small fists clenched she watched the man in the black walk away as one of his men lay a boot to the princess' side thrusting her over on her back so her bloodied face pointed toward the morning sky. Then the soldiers lifted her and bore her away. Infuriated, Nightstar tasted blood as pure white teeth punctured her pale full lips.

"Mom," she whispered, shifting so she could leap to the next tree as the white guard began to head toward the stand where she waited, "I know you won't approve, but I'm _not_ going to leave you.

"Ever."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Koriand'r awoke in a dark humid place. It was not the same cell she had shared with her child

but something worse, somewhere even farther from the light. Three walls of solid rock formed a kind of horseshoe about her, and the fourth ~ comprised of nothing but six inch bars of steel set less than four inches apart ~ made her feel like a caged animal. She drew a deep breath and instantly regretted it. The air was noxious. It choked her, filling her nose and throat, making her cough spasmodically. Weakened as she was by lack of food and her recurring illness, it almost made her pass out. Sheer willpower alone kept her conscious. That and the need to see her child and her husband again.

She sat up and realized as she did so that she was chained to the floor. Heavy links of a dark galvanized metal fell from locked cuffs which surrounded her hands and feet, binding her to the spot. She lifted both arms and reached towards the bars, but her grasp fell short by two or three feet. Glancing at her golden hands, she saw the bracelets were still there as well, and glowing brighter than ever.

"It seems I underestimated you. You and your whelp. I will not make that mistake again."

Closing her eyes, Koriand'r sighed and steeled herself for what was to come. When she opened them and looked at her captor, would her child be in his arms? Had they caught her already or had she managed to escape? Was she free? Perhaps already with her father or Bruce?

Afraid, but not willing to show it, she uttered a brief prayer to her goddess asking for strength and then lifted her head, turning to face her unseen persecutor, and as she did, she filled her mind with vivid images of his broken and scorched corpse at her feet. Dick would not have approved, but then… he was not here. She had survived more than a decade of torture long before she had met him and she knew what it took.

Later, she would be generous if she could.

"It is not wise to underestimate one's enemy. A pity so many make that mistake."

Koriand'r froze in place, her eyes fixing him, the stare bold and unafraid.

"See that _you_ do not."

"A threat. From a dying alien. I am terrified."

"Unleash me and I will show you how ill I am," she countered, straining against her chains. "I have enough strength to tear you apart."

The man with the demon's head gazed at her for a moment and then nodded, the ruby eyes flashing, seemingly on their own. "Most likely you do. That is why you are restrained. I am not finished with you yet, alien, but be assured when I am, _you will die_."

The princess shifted, bringing her feet up under her and standing. She could just about stretch to her full height. Tightly clasping the chains, she drew upon what meager energy she felt pulsing in her veins and without warning lunged straight at him. The chains groaned, the rivets in the floor protesting, but they held. The tall man backed away, startled. Less than a foot short of the bars she stopped and panting, fell back and onto her knees.

"Impressive but pointless," the man said, obviously shaken.

She grinned, white teeth shining against golden skin several shades too pale. "I had to know."

He laughed, briefly. Nervously. "I would save my strength if I were you, alien. You are dying. What little time you have left is precious."

Her eyes narrowed. Precious? To him? "Why _precious?_ You care nothing for me…"

"True. Not for you, but for what will come _of_ you." There was a pause as he clicked a small device in his hand and a wide screen, nearly four by four, flickered on behind him to show the vast desert that lay beyond Ra's al Ghul's small green oasis. At the moment the view was empty. "Before I desired only the death of your mongrel child and counted on your inability to control your rage at her death. I hoped to lay the evils of your alien kind at your feet, to destroy those who have power and wield it as they see fit ~ as though they were _gods_ and we who are _merely_ human, ants beneath their feet. In this way the conflict between man and _superman_ would have escalated until your kind ~ those who have invaded, infested and devastated this world ~ were no more. But now… Now I have better plans for you _and your child_ …."

The Tamaranean strained at her bonds, fire raging in her veins, aching to burst free. "Nightstar is free! You can't use her."

The demon turned his head to look at her. "Is she?"

Two words. Only two. But she would never know. Koriand'r took another breath, coughing less this time. "You are a liar," she whispered, weakness overpowering her will, "I refuse to believe you."

"Believe what you want, but know this. From your blood ~ _and from your child's_ ~ will come a plague such as this world has never known. Any who are not human… those whose genes have betrayed their species _and_ those who come from worlds far away …will fall prey. There will be no more 'super' men, only men."

"You aren't a man," she whispered, surrendering at last to the fatigue that rolled over her with tsunami force. "You are an animal." She fell to the ground, her breath coming in harsh gasps, "An animal."

"Better _that_ than an alien, bitch."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Nightstar hesitated outside of the cell she and her mother had been confined in earlier. Having played a brief game of hide and seek with the men who had poured out of the compound shortly after her mother had been taken away, she had returned to the treetop to wait, guessing they would first look far afield for her, not suspecting she had doubled-back toward the place of her captivity. Half an hour later she swung to the ground, using a passing herd of gazelle as a living shield. After that, she had reentered the compound by squirming her way under the fence, careful not to touch it. Her mother most likely would be furious with her, but she just couldn't abandon her, not on some vague hope that somehow her father had managed to track them down. What was she supposed to do? Wait until the Batwing swooped out of the sky like some dark savior, lifting them from the dirt and the pain, miraculously reuniting their family? No. Things only happened if you _made_ them happen.

She looked in through the hole in the concrete block wall and frowned. Somewhere, _somehow_ the inner hallway their guards had used _had_ to connect with the place they had taken them for examination. She was betting that was where her mother was now. But something about the darkened room and empty pallet bothered her, as though the ghost of something really extraordinary haunted the place ~ something she had lost and might never find again. Ill at ease, she skirted the broken stones and moved on in search of another way in.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Two shadows black against the advancing morning light landed with catlike sureness on the corrugated roof of one of the outbuildings that hugged the electrified fence. In tight formation Nightwing and the Batman had breached the compound, counting on Bruce's robotic aid back in the Batwing to run interference with it's electronic eye. Retracting the batline, the Batman silently signaled his former partner as the two began the familiar game of leaping from one rooftop to the next, hastening toward their ultimate destination: The large warehouse-like building at its' center.

As had been decided on the three mile trek to the oasis, Ibn waited outside the mesh barricade, ironically leaning on the very tree Nightstar had only recently vacated. Impatient, he nevertheless stood very still, passing the time as best he could, trying not to think of the young woman he had come to know and to care about deeply who was a prisoner here. Five minutes later he moved towards the fence, careful to check for any guards. Thirty seconds later, the scrambling device in place, he used a small handheld acetylene torch to cut the metal and stepped through. Once inside, he moved to another spot where he could avoid the rays of the rising sun and settled in. Rolling back the silk cuff that covered his Rolex he checked the time. Eight more minutes.. Seven…. Six.

Time seemed to stand still. The Batman had told him to maintain radio silence for a full fifteen minutes during which time he and Nightstar's father would make their way to the roof of the warehouse and get their equipment into place. They were trying to confirm the presence of Koriand'r and her child within the vast complex. If indeed they were there, then he was to make his way in on the ground floor and attempt to find them. Though well trained, combat did not come first nature to him and he was quite content to leave it to the other two to battle their way in, giving cover to his more _covert_ activities.

Minutes before while standing beneath the whispering palm trees, he had watched as their shadowy forms had flown overhead, passing swiftly and without a sound. A wary guard walking directly beneath their path had seen and heard nothing, and even now paraded back and forth before the fence as though his great vigilance deserved some sort of a reward. He had been told of these two as a child. His mother had often spoken of the Bat with longing and affection, and though his grandfather had been their enemy, he too had respected them as no other. But now that he had met them, been in their presence and come to know their hearts, he realized what he knew was but the beginning of the tale.

One he hoped he would be permitted to learn in greater detail.

Glancing at his watch again he drew a breath and began to move forward. Thirty seconds late. Four and a half minutes remained. His father had told him to be on the other side of the main building at precisely five fifty-five. He had to hasten his pace. Moving swiftly, he found his mind returning to the fate of the young woman he had known only briefly. She was here somewhere. And she was in grave danger. Ahmuhd was a madman, one the fates should never have allowed to live. If not for his grandfather's final vanity, it would not have happened. Ahmuhd had been left to die, but there was the remaining Pit. Ra's had not been able to bring himself to destroy them all, even when it seemed his long immortal life must end at last and he knew neither his child nor his grandson desired eternity on earth. Someone had placed Ahmuhd in it and he had found life again. Life and an even deeper deadlier madness.

Ibn sighed. He had known all of this and had said nothing and now Nightstar was here

~ perhaps dying ~ as if by his hand. Still, he had thought the man's continued existence only a myth. A mistake many had made with his _own_ grandsire and had not lived to regret.

He drew a breath and shook off the guilt. At the moment, none of that mattered. All that mattered was that he find her. Then he could determine what words he would speak to her ~ whether he would apologize or propose. Or simply hold her and never let go. Setting his jaw, he hurried around the corner of the next to last building before the main structure, ready for whatever might happen.

"Look out!"

Ibn al Xu'ffasch raised his eyes a split-second too late to keep from colliding with the rapidly moving object that was heading his way flying about four feet above the ground in a rather erratic course. Unexpectedly he found himself knocked to the ground, his arms and legs entangled with those of a very angry, but very much alive Nightstar.

"You idiot!" she screamed as she freed her arm from beneath the long tail of his dark suit coat, "what do you think you're ~ ….Ibn?"

His clothing rumpled, his black hair tousled and in his eyes, the young man nevertheless still managed to appear dignified. "Uhh, Nightstar? We have come to rescue you."

The dark-haired girl laughed, dusting herself off and hauling him to his feet. She held him at arm's length gazing at him a moment and then embraced him impulsively, "Ibn!"

Relieved beyond what he thought possible, he returned her hug saying, "Nightstar, you're free! Thank God, I ~ we were afraid ~"

Abruptly she released him and glanced behind her. A frown marred her beautiful face. Quickly rising up on her toes, she planted an unexpected kiss on his lips and grabbing his hand began to pull him in the opposite direction. "Come on!"

"What? Why?" Dust flew from his Italian shoes as they drug the ground. "Nightstar?"

She pointed.

Looking back he saw a group of five or six armed men pointing rather nasty looking weapons at them. Trained Dobermans accompanied them, straining at their leashes, hungry for blood.

" _That's_ _why!_ " Nightstar took a deep breath and then moving behind him wrapped her arms about his narrow waist. "Have you ever flown?"

He looked startled. "Me?" He nodded. "Of course."

"Without a plane?"

"What? I…." He felt his feet leave the ground and realized the girl was carrying them into the air, "Nightstar, I'm not ~"

She grinned wickedly. "Consider this the first of our 'firsts'." And then close to his ear, she whispered, "Just don't tell my Dad."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Nightwing and his partner had arrived at the central structure having met little resistance. Somewhere along their path three guards lay unconscious. Several others were bound and gagged, and all security devices were now registering internal errors or playing back a prepared loop that showed the roof of the main building quiet and unoccupied as ever.

As Nightwing finished installing the last of the listening devices, he set the headphones on his shoulders and gently touched Bruce's arm.

"What's that?"

Somewhere to their left a commotion had broken out. Voices were raised in anger and dogs were barking as if eager for the hunt.

"Ignore it," the Batman ordered turning to his own work.

Nightwing frowned unable to. "I hope it isn't Ibn," he said at last, casting a glance in the direction of the noise.

"The boy can take care of himself. Concentrate on the task before you." The man in black opened a small compartment in the sleeve of his suit and sent a fine filament through the hole he had made in the roof of the building. A second later he depressed an elliptical button activating the miniature fiberoptic camera. As they became screens, the white eye-slits in his cowl glowed, giving him a demonic appearance. "I don't see either of them."

Nightwing shook his head. He was listening to other voices, those of the guards and others who were in communication over the vast network that linked the compound. Suddenly his skin went white. "She's in there. Not near though." He listened again, somewhat frantic. "Somewhere farther inside. A cavern beneath the building, I think."

"She?" The Batman asked, his voice infuriatingly even. "Only one?"

Nightwing nodded, his face unreadable. "Koriand'r."

"So she _is_ alive. No word of Nightstar?"

"Wait!" Dick's hand came up and suddenly he pivoted toward the area where they had heard the commotion. "That noise. That was Nightstar _and_ Ibn. We have to ~ "

The Batman's gloved hand closed about his shoulder. " _She_ can take care of herself too, son. They're both well trained adults. Your _wife_ has to be your first concern." He paused, weighing his words. "She has very little time left."

Nightwing stared at him, torn. "Bruce, she's my _child_ ~ "

"It's your wife's life. Nightstar is with Ibn. I'm beginning to realize there is more to that boy that I thought. She'll be safe."

His partner dew a deep breath looking longingly toward the area which had now grown quiet, and then nodded slowly. "What next?" he asked, accepting the priorities fate had set for him. "How do we find Kory?"

"We get inside first. Now that we've lost Ibn, we will have to ~ "

As he spoke his cape suddenly lifted off of the roof and began to flap in the wind. Nightwing almost lost his footing as a blast of air struck him unexpectedly and as they watched a dark green helicopter rose above the corrugated roof, its props whirling madly against a blood red sky. The Batman pointed and his partner noted that the open door held several men, one of which had some sort of weapon in his hand. A _big_ weapon.

Nightwing yelled, "Duck!"

The man in the helicopter fired a small missile which sailed just past them to strike the ground with shuddering force. The Batman grabbed his former ward's arm as he drew a small gun-shaped device of his own from his utility belt. Aiming it at the roof he shouted, "Then we go in the hard way!" Seconds later, amidst shards of white hot metal two dark figures rained down on the scene below. They landed in the middle of a vast lab. Rolling with the impact, Nightwing rose and shifted so he stood back to back with his mentor. About them several dozen men in white robes and hoods turned from their various tasks, taking note. Soon anything that could be employed as a weapon was in their hands.

"Now what?" he shouted.

"Get away however you can!" the Batman answered as he drew himself into a ball and then flew through the air towards the closest group of men. "Find Koriand'r!"

Nightwing pivoted, preparing to follow his partner when he saw one of the men ~ one who had a sigil of some nature on his white sleeve as opposed to all of the others whose robes were pure ~ grab a small metal box and head for a yawning doorway on the opposite side of the vast room. He hesitated for a split second glancing at Bruce who seemed to be holding his own, and then following some instinct he didn't fully understand, bounded off after him. Seconds later he found himself somersaulting beneath the foot-thick metal door as it clanged shut, sealing him off from the lab and his partner who was prevailing against overwhelming odds.

Aware of what had happened, the Batman drew fresh strength from his Nightwing's escape. At least one of them would be free to carry on. Revealing white teeth, he bit back pain as yet another adherent of Ahmuhd's slammed into him. In spite of the robotic nature of the suit he wore, his aging body felt the impact. He was growing weary. Without warning, a large man raised a metal cart over his head and brought it crashing down against his skull. Almost blacking out, he fell to his knees. Hot blood run down his cheekbone toward his chin. This was it. There were simply too many of them.

Just then as oblivion beckoned, he heard a familiar voice and looked up to see his granddaughter drop through the hole in the ceiling like an avenging angel. Ibn was in her arms.

"Hold on, Grandpa! I'm coming!"

Renewed, the Batman found strength to regain his footing. Since twenty years of compiled injuries had taken their toll, his robot army had done the fighting for him. He was out of practice. Still, he had always held on to the fact that his will was stronger than the body which housed it. Waving at Nightstar he slammed his fist into the closest thing he could find, which just happened to be the nose of his nearest attacker.

"Where's Dad?" the girl yelled as she came alongside him.

"Gone to find your mother."

Several minutes passed as the two of them fought back to back. Nightstar still wore the power dampeners, but since her mother had reminded her to call on her human strength and power, they were only minor annoyances. She still couldn't fly, but could leap great distances and she could hold her own with the strongest of men. Still, she stood in awe of her grandfather's might and tenacity. The man wouldn't give up, even though blood was flowing from his nose and the lights on his suit were blinking wildly. Finally as yet another wave of men began to attack them the girl asked, amazed. "Grandpa, where are they all coming from?"

"I don't… know. There seems to be no end," he panted, fatigue threatening to overcome even his indomitable will. "I think it's the same group, over and over. Look there are no bodies on the floor."

Black hair flew as she glanced from one side to the other. He was right.

"But how? _Grandpa_!"

One of Ahmuhd's men had snuck up behind the Dark Knight and landed a blow with a lead pipe to the his shoulder. The older man crumbled and lay still. As she bent to help him, Nightstar heard a familiar voice raised in a cry.. Looking up she saw Ibn being lifted high above the crowd and borne away.

"Ibn!" she screamed. "Grandpa, they've hurt him! Ibn!"

"Forget him," he whispered, battling the darkness that threatened to overwhelm him, "Nightstar, get away. If you don't ~ "

"Grandpa, I ~ "

A moment later there was nothing left in the room to see but a milling, winding wave of white.


	6. The Pit

_Chapter Six: The Pit_

Nightwing stumbled, his booted foot catching on a rough uneven patch of rock. This was not at all what he had expected when he followed the man with the arm band out of Ahmuhd's high-tech lab. Apparently he was in a tunnel. Beneath his gloved hand he could feel cold hard stone. There were no lights. The air was stale and it stank of rotten eggs. Thousands of rotten eggs baked in cinnamon sugar. Sweet and sickening. Holding his hand over his nose, he hastily engaged the night-vision goggles in his black mask and scanned the area ahead for the one he had followed.

Curiously his prey seemed to have disappeared. Taking a moment he crouched down at the bottom of the rough wall ~ hoping the air would be cleaner nearer the floor ~ and closing his eyes, sought to fine-tune his other senses. Within seconds he became aware of the intake and output of breath nearby. The other man was waiting for him. Most likely armed and laying in ambush.

Grinning, the crimefighter crept stealthily forward, alert but relaxed. This man was a scientist, not a hunter and he could smell him sweat. Two seconds before his finger would have closed on the trigger, a flat silver disk flew through the air disarming him. Three seconds later he was pinned to the tunnel wall, panting heavily, facing what must have seemed to him a black demon from hell.

Nightwing was _not_ happy.

"All right, where is it?" he demanded, breathing deeply in spite of the rotten air.

"W-what?' the man stammered, faceless behind his all-concealing hood.

"What you were so determined to get out of the lab back there. The refrigerated box I saw you grab before you ran."

"I ~ I don't know what you mean." The man's voice shook. Obviously confrontation was _not_ in his job profile..

Nightwing moved in closer, narrowing his eyes and dropping his voice, utilizing all of the intimidation techniques he had been taught by the best. "Look, I don't have a lot of time and I am _not_ a patient man. You tell me what I want to know or together we'll move on down this tunnel and I will give you a personal tour of what is at it's end.." He had a pretty good idea of what lay at the bottom of the long narrow passageway, but even if he had guessed wrong, it was obviously _not_ somewhere this man wanted to go. "It's just you and me and a long dark tunnel with Hell at the end. Is whoever you are protecting worth it?"

"He'll kill me."

Nightwing's brows arched demonically behind his mask. "And what makes you think I won't?  
The man laughed, a guttural insulting sound. Still, he squirmed in his hand. "You hero types. You don't kill. You're bluffing."

Beneath the hero's mask the man, Dick Grayson, who had been torn from his wife and child, was not _so_ certain what he _was_ or was not capable of. Allowing a portion of that anger and fear to bleed into his rasping voice, he whispered, "There may have been a time when that was true. But in case you haven't noticed, pal, things have changed. The world isn't the place it was and I am _not_ the man I was. I have lost friend after friend. Seen hundreds of good men and women die for the likes of scum like you. Somewhere in this stinking place are my wife and child and you better believe I will do whatever it takes to get them back." He slammed the white-robed figure into the wall and lifted the man's stocky form several feet from the ground, allowing his feet to dangle as he slowly began to choke. "What is your measly life to _me_ compared to theirs? What are _you_ to me but an obstacle? Or ~ if you choose to ~ you could become a means to an end. Your choice."

The man shifted, clawing at his throat. "Can't breathe. Let me… go."

"Are you ready to talk?"

The white head bobbed up and down and Nightwing slowly lowered him so his feet were just touching the cold wet floor of the tunnel. "I hid it, back the way we came. Let me go and I'll take you there."

Nightwing snorted. "No tricks."

The voice behind the mask assured him. "No tricks."

He let him go. A second or two later trailing close behind him, he became aware of the fact that he had been betrayed. They were not alone. Swiftly dropping and kicking out with his left leg, he felt it connect as a feathered dart sped over his head. The man behind him went down without a sound, but in the time it had taken him to fell the newcomer, his original attacker had regained both his courage and his gun. The latter was pointed at Nightwing's chest.

Chagrined, the former Titan raised his hand. "I guess you've got me."

"I most certainly do, _traitor_." At Nightwing's look he added, "That's right. We all know who you are. You should be happy to know that all you and others like you have done will be redeemed by my master's plans. Humanity may yet forgive you for your sins."

"My sins?" Dick gauged the distance between them, calculating the jump. "And what would those be?"

"Intermarriage with an alien. Willful pollution of the species. When Siddig al Ahmuhd, the Demon's Hand has accomplished all he desires, those such as you will be his willful slaves."

 _The Demon's Hand? That_ was a presumptive title. Nightwing paused and then asked suddenly, leading him on, "So now that you have me, why don't you tell me what's in the box.."

The man shifted as though listening to some inner voice, though Nightwing suspected it was really an internal relay system. "The others are coming. They are close to opening the door." He leveled the gun at the crimefighter's mask, adding, " Your other friends are taken. Soon you will all be dead."

 _Bruce and Ibn? Had they really been caught?_ He swallowed hard and then countered, "I thought I was going to be a slave."

The barrel of the man's gun struck his face, splitting the skin on his cheek. Nightwing yelped and made the decision to fall to his knees, pretending it had disoriented him.

"Infidel!" his attacker screamed, "You will learn. Do you want to know why the master has your wife and child?"

"Yes," he answered, tensing as the tell-tale sounds of a heavy door being breached echoed down the walls of the tunnel. He had a couple of minutes at best. "Tell me."

"In your wife and your child's veins runs the stuff of legends. A virus more potent than anything we could have imagined, more than that which my master sought to create all those years ago. And even more, they hold the key to opening the door to world domination. Their sacrifice will allow us to fulfill the desires of our original master. With what we learn, we will free this world of all infestation."

This was bigger than Dick thought. Ra's al Ghul's plans had led to the death of hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions over the span of his centuries long life. "So what was in the box?" he

prompted.

"The beginning and the end."

Blue eyes narrowed, "The curse and the cure?"

"Yes, and you will never possess it." The white-garbed man lifted his foot to slam Nightwing in the chest, but at that moment his intended victim shifted, throwing the attacker off-balance. He could hear the other men shouting as they sought their colleague in the tunnels. He had little time. Locking an arm about the man's throat, he hauled him back into one of the narrow crevices that lined the rock wall. Applying pressure, he threatened him.

"Last chance," he said, squeezing tighter. "Where is it!"

"I choose to die."

"Then welcome to Hell." Nightwing pressed even harder and the man passed out, falling limp in his arms. He then lowered the body to the ground, propping him against the uneven wall. He had only seconds to fly. As he turned to toss the man's weapon farther along the hallway, one of the lights which had begun to stab the darkness seeking him fell across a small neat metal package tucked against the opposite wall not six feet from where he stood. Diving for it, he cradled the box against his body and somersaulted on down the tunnel, running headlong towards the flickering firelight and sulfurous unknown.

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Ibn awoke to darkness. He sat up and shifted, surprised to find he was unfettered. Obviously, their captors didn't consider him much of a threat. He had gone down easy enough, struck from behind while his eyes were on Nightstar and her grandfather. He felt ashamed. He had been so easily distracted, and after all he had said to the Batman about being able to protect himself. As his eyes adjusted to the low light, he realized he was being held in a small square cell cut from the earth and that he was not alone. At his feet, shattered and broken, lay the remnants of the armored suit of the Bat.

"Batman?" he pivoted quickly, narrowing his eyes as he tried to pierce the black night of the cell. In the far corner, a shadow within shadows shifted and he saw him, a battered broken figure. Crossing the cell quickly, he knelt beside him, feeling like a squire at his conquered knight's side. " _Father_?"

Bruce's breathing was shallow. Blood had crusted on his lips and in his white hair, but as his face turned towards him, he saw the fire in his eyes had not dimmed. Obviously he had been roughly treated, stripped of his suit and his dignity, but he was alive and unbowed. His son laid his hand on his shoulder and simply remained silent for a moment. Then he thought to glance about the cell for the other members of their party.

"They aren't here."

Ibn turned to him. "You are aware." He lifted his hand, rocking back on his heels and then asked, "They?"

"Nightstar or her father. They took her away." Bruce bit his lip against the pain as he shifted to straighten up against the cell wall. "I tried to stop them. I failed."

His son knew what that admission had cost the older man. "And Nightwing?" he asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Bruce laughed and then coughed. "He got away."

That brought a smile to his son's lips. "Then there is hope." Ibn al Xu'ffasch stood and began to prowl the cell, walking from one side to the other. At the bottom of one wall he found a small grate that allowed air to flow from the next room into this one. Kneeling down he pressed his head against the opening and gasped.

"What? What is it?"

"The Pit," the young man whispered, his voice shaking. "It is the Pit."

"The Lazarus Pit. One of your grandfather's?"

Ibn nodded. "The last."

"How can you be certain?'

"I know," the young man asserted. "I remember well the scent of Hell."

Bruce fell silent for a moment and then he began to shift his feet under him. "Ibn, help me up."

His son regained his feet and turned to fasten dark eyes on the older man. His breathing was ragged and his color pasty. "No. You must rest. We are trapped. There is nothing we can do. These are the holding cells beneath the compound. They are inescapable. Grandfather saw to that."

Bruce continued to struggle, righting himself and pulling his battered frame off the ground. Ibn ran to his side and supported him, awed by his resolve.

"I don't believe in negatives. Is there enough of the suit to wear? Will it offer any protection?"

"Very little. Perhaps as much as my vest. But what can you do, broken and bloodied? You can barely stand."

Grim determination fired his answer. "I can fight… and I can win."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Twenty yards away, through several feet of solid rock and even heavier metal doors, Nightwing advanced warily, drawing closer to the source of the pulsing light and noxious smells. By this time he had disengaged his night vision appliances as they were no longer necessary and had slowed his pace. He seemed at last to have thrown off the men who had broken through the door and raced to follow him. Curiously, once he had moved beyond the tunnel and entered the cavernous world below, they had pulled back as though afraid ~ or unwilling ~ to follow. Now he found himself quite alone.

Quickly surveying his surroundings, he decided to duck into one of the many rooms that branched off of the main chamber, intent on checking out the contents of the box he had taken from Ahmuhd's goon. It was cold against his skin and his pounding heart. He genuinely hoped the man had not been lying to him.

If he had been telling the truth, he now held Kory's life in his hands.

Moving on cat's feet he swiftly covered the open area watching for monitors and guards. There didn't seem to be any at this level. Wary, he entered one of the narrow gaps in the rock wall, placing the container between his feet as a precaution before glancing about. A dimly lit area lay before him, secured with bars on one side. Turning quickly, he made certain he had not stumbled into a trap. Then he realized he was on the outside of a jail cell looking in, not the other way around.

A limp figure lay on the floor in the center of the cell, heavy chains binding its hands and feet. Turning on the night vision once again, he took a step forward only to have his heart skip a beat.

No two beats.

"My God. Kory?"

Stunned, he fell to his knees just without the bars, reaching one of his hands towards the

red-headed form that lay motionless on the cold hard ground. _Was she alive? Had he come too late?_

"Kory, Honey. It's me. God… Kory…."

The figure shifted slightly, one hand stretching out towards his. Her head lifted slowly, as though with great effort, and finally a pair of beloved eyes ~ eyes he thought never to see again ~ looked at him, but they were wide with fever and showed no sign of recognition.

"Hello. Is… someone there...? I thought I heard…."

Dick couldn't speak. It was her. _Alive_. _After ten years…._ Tears filled his eyes and he began to tremble.

"Kory…?"

There was a sudden intake of breath. Her voice shook as well. "Dick? _Dick?"_

"It's me, Hon." He stretched his hand farther, his fingers almost finding hers. "Kory, it's me. I've come to take you home…." The tears were running down his cheeks freely now. "You and our child…."

Her head came up and saw him, really _saw_ him, her wide green eyes wet and wild. "He has her! Dick, he has her below! He paraded her past me, I don't know how long ago. The fever…" she sighed and laid her other hand alongside her head, "I'm afraid I can't stay awake for long. It's happening again, just like the last time."

Suddenly he remembered the box. Blessed salvation in a box not ten feet away. "Hold on," he said, as though she could do anything else. Quickly he retrieved the metal container bringing it near the bars. "This holds the cure, Kory. I got it from one of Ahmuhd's men when he tried to take it to safety."

"Ahmuhd?" She shifted onto her knees, balancing her hand against the floor. "Who…"

"It doesn't matter," he answered, breaking the lock on the box. 'We have to… Oh no."

"What?" Her eyes lit with fear. To be so near…. "What is it?"

"There are ten vials, marked two different ways. Five of one, five of the other. The virus and the cure." He looked at her, his face ashen, "I didn't find out which was which. God, Kory, I've failed you."

"No, you haven't. Dick…" She stretched as far forward as she could, the metal chains that held her keeping him just out of reach. She longed to touch his soft hair, his pale face, to hold him in her arms and make everything all right. "Give them to me. Then go get our child."

"Kory, I can't leave you. Not when I've just found you." He glanced at the intricate lock located on the nearby wall, his mind racing. "I can have you out of here in a few minutes."

She fixed him with her emerald eyes, a sad smile on her lips. Her voice was firm. "No, Dick. There is no time. You have to save our child first. Who knows what Ahmuhd might be planning? Nightstar is young, at the beginning of her life. I have had a wonderful life, already. If the goddess sees fit to give me another chance, I will survive." She reached towards him again, her hand open. "I will wait and then I will choose."

Dick's face lost what little color it had left. It was almost more than he could bear, to leave her like this. He swallowed hard and made his decision. "Will you wait till I come back?"

"If I can."

They stared at each other for a moment and then he handed her one of each of the vials. As her fingers found them in the dim light, they brushed his and closed around both his warm flesh and the cold glass.

"I love you, Dick. I didn't get a chance to tell you the last time …a chance to say goodbye."

"Kory, I ~ "

"Don't say anything, just go. Go now! One way or the other I will be here when you get back."

He hesitated, holding her hand, afraid to let go. Afraid it would be forever this time. And then he pulled away. Steeling himself he whispered quietly, "I will love you, Kory, until the end of time," and then he was gone.

"Until the end," she echoed, "and beyond."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Some distance away, down a long winding corridor, their child lay bound and gagged. The bracelets which had encircled her delicate wrists were finally gone but in their place were straps of a shining metal that held her fast to some sort of examination table. There were more on her naked feet. When she awoke, she had tried them with no success. Even with her full strength they appeared to be unbreakable. She was trapped. Infuriated, she lifted her head from the shining metal bed and growled, shifting it from side to side to no avail.

"Ah. I see you are awake. Then we can begin."

Nightstar stopped, fighting back tears of frustration and fear. She blinked and for the first time since she had regained consciousness looked at her surroundings. She was in some sort of cave, like her grandpa's, but instead of the comfortable darkness she was accustomed to full of screeching bats and other night creatures, the walls of this gigantic cavern were ablaze with light. All around her red, gold and orange light flickered, licking at the stalactites on the ceiling, casting bizarre shadows that seemed to move with a will of their own. And it stank. Once when she was a really little girl her Dad had taken her to Gotham. It had been extremely hot and they had had to wait near the wharf for a boat to come in. On the river, great barges full of refuse had passed by, odorous and rank. It reminded her of that, only worse. Here it smelled like somebody had unsuccessfully tried to mask the odor with something sweet, only making matters worse.

The figure who had spoken put down whatever it had had in its hands and turned, walking to her side. Her green eyes went wide as she saw who it was, not only the man who had stunned her mother outside in the compound, but the demon from her childhood dreams come to life.

His ruby eyes fastened on her and she could hear the wicked smile behind the false face. "Yes, little one. You remember me. That is, the person I was ten years ago when you were just a child."

She wanted to speak, to _scream,_ but the gag prevented it. "In time," he said, laying his hand on her exposed arm, "in time.

"The very first time we met, I did not wear this face." His fingers indicated the ebon mask. "I was a valued worker, lost in the vast maze that was Wayne Enterprises. I saw you when your father brought you to tour the research facility where I worked, just after I had been contacted by the Demon's Head and asked to work for him. Ra's promised much: wealth, favor…. Things which meant little to your adopted family, but much to me." He paused, as though lost in thought and then continued. "He spoke to me, Ra's al Ghul did, and explained about Mr. Wayne's other life and the sins of his surrogate son. At the time I remember thinking what an abomination you were. Then and there I determined that something had to be done.

"Sometime later, as ancient languages and viral research were my specialties, I was asked by your grandfather's greatest enemy to decipher the plague wheel. I argued at the time that he was intent on destroying the wrong enemy, but finally kept silent for fear of my life. Ra's cared not who he killed to bring about his green Utopia. That was wrong. We have been given this knowledge to protect mankind … we are to guide, not destroy.

"So, in secret, while Ra's pursued his own ends, I pursued mine. I began to build my own empire, employing or bribing many who worked for Wayne, men who like me resented the presence of aliens on our world and Mr. Wayne's tolerant attitude toward them. Soon, carefully… secretly… I began to experiment. You were my test case. I had access to you through your grandfather's disgruntled employees and one day I infected you with a mild form of the virus I was working on. You became ill. It made you vulnerable to human diseases. Then, I personally introduced you to one of my own."

He caressed her face, fingering her long jet black hair. "At the time I thought it a pity you did not die. Now, I know the gods blessed me. After my first death, it all became clear. Clear as crystal."

Nightstar squirmed. She felt violated. She shook her head trying to dislodge his hand and glared at him, unable to express her distaste. He stared at her and then suddenly and without warning his hand moved and he ripped the gag off, leaving her skin stinging.

She gasped. "You murderer! You're the one responsible. You killed my mother! _Bastard!"_

Siddig al Ahmuhd, known as the Demon's Hand turned toward her, ruby eyes aglow. Patiently he waited for her to fall silent and then pressing her cheeks with his fingers, replied, "Not yet."

"Nightstar!" The girl's father pivoted at the sound of her voice. It had come from down the corridor where the scent of sulfur was almost overwhelming. A grim smile lit his handsome face as he turned that way. At least he knew she was alive!

Empowered, terrified, determined, he headed for his child.

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"I will indeed be the _cause_ of her death, but as you know, she still lives. That was another blessing. The two of you have provided me with the means to achieve my goals."

Nightstar shook her head. "I would never help you," she spat.

"Not willingly, no." The man in the mask walked away, only to return with a small vial in his hand coded blue. "This is the virus which stopped your mother's heart ten years ago. I have drawn it from her blood and cultured it. With it I will decimate the alien population of this planet. This," he continued, raising another vial with a green label, "is the cure, taken from your blood. You who survived. You, who are part human."

"What do you want a cure for? I thought you wanted us all dead!"

"That is what I wished before." He paused, his voice growing strangely quiet and distant. "Before I died. Before my eyes were opened."

The girl growled, doing a good imitation of her mother enraged. "You look more than alive enough to me. Sorry to say."

"I have been reborn," he stated curtly, returning from wherever his thoughts had taken him. "Shortly after my abortive attempt to kill you and your mother's 'death', my master found out I had betrayed him …so to speak. It seems your 'family' was a pet project of his and I had interfered where interference would not be brooked. He cut off my hands and left me to bleed to death."

Nightstar turned her head, noting the heavy gloves he wore.

"Artificial limbs. I still owe Mr. Wayne a debt for these." He laughed, wriggling his false fingers. "My men found me and brought me here. As Ra's right hand I was privy to much, including the location of the pits. I was reborn. Unfortunately, the Demon discovered what we were about. All of my men were killed. I alone escaped. In the intervening years I moved around the world, watching and waiting, finding joy as the rest of the mankind began to see what I had known all along, that the aliens and metahumans among us were a threat. A holocaust waiting to happen. Unfortunately, the conflagration did not do away with all of you. That is why we are here, now. It is why I remain alive."

Unseen, Nightwing had stolen into the room. Hugging the deep shadows along the wall he turned his attention to the solitary figure silhouetted against the raging fires of the Lazarus Pit. He had guessed correctly. It was here. And later, if it must be used, then he thanked God or fate or whoever had placed it here at this time and in this place. Shivering, he held still, catching his daughter's voice. From where he was he couldn't see her, but it was reassuring just to hear her speak, to _know_ she was alive.

"So you can what? Let loose a plague that will kill hundreds of innocent people? Thousands?"

Ahmuhd paused. "Not innocent. Not people."

He raised the blue vial, holding it so the light of the pit crackled in its sapphire heart. "Every alien on this planet will either die or bow to my will. Those who are willing to become my agents, to turn on their own and ferret them out will live, but they will not be the same. Within the matrix of this liquid, this cure, is the stuff of which dreams are made of."

"Huh?' Nightstar tried to shift. Her back hurt and her nose was itching, but she knew those were the least of her worries. "What are you talking about? You're crazy."

"Am I? Indeed." The soft-spoken man rounded the table she was strapped too, placing his back to Nightwing who braced himself for what was about to come. It didn't sound good. "Since I have been here, I have found the key to the madness that infects the host as it arises from the Pit, and I have found a way to harness it, to make it's power work for me, and to control those whom I have infected."

Dick's heart plummeted. "Kory," he whispered, 'no.…" For a second he thought of turning back, of warning her, but Ahmuhd's next words forced him to stay, committing his wife to the hands of fate.

"The men who work for me were my human guinea pigs. You, my dear, will be my first hybrid."

He had to save his child.

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Bruce and Ibn worked their way down the long narrow corridors of the prison, seeking a way out. Ibn had been here before, as a boy, but he had always preferred the beautiful oasis and the open air above to the fetid atmosphere of the cells and the pathway to the Pit. Some memory remained of their layout, but it was dim and as he helped the wounded Batman down the hallway, he found his mind wandering to other things. He was frightened for Nightstar. And for his father. The older man was on his feet and they had managed to salvage his cape and cowl as well as most of the breastplate of the suit, but other than that it had suddenly struck him how incredibly _human_ the great Batman actually was. How easily he could die like any other man.

"Are you all right?" he asked suddenly, voicing his concern. "Your wound is still bleeding."

"I've had worse."

"Perhaps we should stop ~ "

"Quit, you mean?" the older man's voice was harsh.

"No. Just rest. It took a lot out of you just to break the code on the lock back there in the cell and force the door open. We have been on the move for quite a while, I thought ~ "

"Don't. It's a waste of time."

Ibn bristled at his tone but excused it instantly. The man was pushing beyond his limits as he had always done and he expected nothing less from his son.

A moment later Bruce Wayne asked, "Do you know where we are?"

"At the back of the cell block, I believe. Near the Pit." The dark-eyed young man hesitated, experiencing an old fear. "God, I _hate_ this place."

The Batman's laugh was dark. "I think God would hate this place too."

Leaning on one another they continued to move forward. Once the older man stumbled, but he righted himself instantly and moved on. After that Ibn trailed a step or two behind him, lost in wonder. Moments later they rounded a corner, but before he could step into the indefinite light, a hand touched his shoulder holding him back.

"There's someone there."

The young man peered over his father's shoulder. Before them was a large cell. At its center lay a silent form. The light that flickered beyond the room gave them a shadowy view at best, but it was obviously female and capped with a head of flaming red hair.

Bruce sucked in a breath. "Koriand'r."

"Nightstar's mother?" Ibn narrowed his eyes. He couldn't tell if she was breathing. "Is she alive?"

The Batman shook his cowled head. "If there is a God…." he breathed almost to himself. Then to Ibn he said, "Come on, let's see."

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Ten minutes later they were in the cell. Ibn had watched fascinated as his father first found and then disabled the panel that controlled the wall of steel. At his command it rolled back, revealing the quiescent woman. She was laying on her back, one knee pointed at the sky. One arm was thrust out toward the wall, something clasped in its hand.

"What is it?" Ibn asked, moving to stand next to the cowled man who knelt by her side.

"It's a vial," Bruce answered, taking it from her hand, "and it's empty."

Nightwing hesitated, unsure of what move to make. Ahmuhd was several yards away from him, his back turned, but he was hovering over Nightstar and there was something in his hand that might have been a weapon. Whatever his choice, he didn't want to put her in jeopardy, and yet everything he could think of from jumping the man to stepping out into the light entailed taking some sort of calculated risk. Finally he made a decision. He had to get them apart, even if it meant losing the element of surprise.

"Ahmuhd," he called commandingly, his voice echoing from the vast cavern walls.

"Ah, Mr. Grayson." The tall man seemed unperturbed, as though he had already known he was there. Slowly he turned towards him and Dick saw the object in his hand. It was only a vial, like those in the container. Deadly enough, but nothing he couldn't take out with a well-placed kick ~ if he could get close enough. "Come to save the day?"

"Just my child," he remarked, stepping into the light. "Let her go."

"Dad, no! Get away!" Nightstar screamed, straining at her bonds, "He _hates_ you! I think even more than he does Mom or me. _Get away, now_!"

Almost casually, the man who had single-handedly taken from him a decade of his wife's love and affection, not to mention aiding in the alienation of his child, moved toward him. The ruby red eyes in his mask sparked with firelight, flashing as if alive. Ten feet away he stopped and leveled his hand at him. Nightwing was startled to see a slender tube something like the barrel of a gun emerge from the dark glove. Instinctively he knew it was a weapon.

His body tensed. Ready " _Let her go_."

"No. _Neither_ of you will leave here alive."

He had taken a risk and he had been wrong.

Like a bolt of lightning, electricity leapt from Ahmuhd's fingertips towards Nightwing's chest.

Ibn waited in silence. Bruce had bent to check the alien's heart, to see if it was still beating. As he did, his son looked past him to the face of this woman who had given birth to the one he knew he was coming to love. She was beautiful. Even unconscious, soiled by dirt and sweat, she was radiant. There was about her something that reminded him of the sort of women described in the idylls of ancient lands. Women kingdoms were won and lost over. The kind men willingly gave their lives for. He could see why Richard Grayson had fallen under her spell.

She was much like her child.

"Well?" he asked at last.

His father hesitated a moment longer and then slowly raised his head. "Odd. Her heart is racing but she has no fever anymore. I don't ~ "

Without warning, Koriand'r's eyes flew open and she began to rise. Bruce pulled back from her, a concerned look on his face. He opened his mouth and spoke to her, "Koriand'r? Princess?"

Uncertain, Ibn followed him, backing away until he could feel the wall of the cell brush his skin. "What is it? Batman?"

"I'm not sure," he fingered the green vial he had picked up off of the ground, "she's taken something. Someone…. Dick must have been here."

At the mention of her husband's name, Nightwing's wife turned her eyes towards them. The son of the Bat gasped. He had not expected her visage to be so savage. Her eyes, so like her daughter's were wide and wild; green, glowing, almost demonic. She stared at them without seeing them and began to moan.

"Stay still, Ibn. I don't think she even knows we're here." Bruce stepped in front of his son and lifted a hand toward her. "Princess Koriand'r," he called loud and clear, "can you here me? Do you know where you are?"

The woman narrowed her eyes and crouched, straining at her bonds. She began to exert power and soon the room was blazing scarlet as her fingertips and then her hands began to glow. Seconds later a loud rushing was followed by a deafening roar as chains and earth exploded upward.

" _Ibn, get down! Cover your head_!" The Batman grabbed his son and dove for the what meager shelter the cell had to over, which was not much. Crouching in the corner, he placed his body with its battered armor over the young man and hugged the wall.

Behind him Koriand'r exulted in the release of energy held in check all too long. Even though her mind was clouded, she knew she had been bound and that _now_ she was free. Such triumph! Such joy! Her body aglow, she gathered even more energy, pointing both hands at the wall before her, obliterating it..

Bruce's white head came up moments later as the newest hail of stones ended. He glanced in her direction and then checked his son. She was standing still now, her hands still pulsing red, as if listening to someone's voice.

"Are you all right, son?"

Ibn looked at him and nodded. He was bleeding from several small cuts, but otherwise just shaken. "What has happened?" He swallowed hard, choking on the dust. "Was she always like this?"

In spite of the danger, Bruce found himself smiling. "That," he said as he stood up, "is a matter up for debate."

The young man looked at the alien, noting her silence. "What is she doing now?"  
Bruce shook his head. "I don't know." He turned to her and tried once again, "Princess, are you ~ "

Before the words could leave his mouth she rose from the floor and like an arrow shot from a bow flew into the corridor, her long red hair turning into a stream of fire that trailed behind her, continuing to light the desolated cell long after she was gone.

The Batman wiped blood from his own face and held his shoulder where a piece of sharp metal had penetrated the broken suit piercing his skin.

"I guess not."

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Nightwing instantly leapt sideways narrowly avoiding the bolt of white light which flew from Ahmuhd's adapted hand. Then he somersaulted several times managing to land less than a yard from the table that held his child.

"Dad?"

"Hang on, Princess! I won't let him hurt you." He moved quickly, laying his hands on the side of the metal table, ready to thrust her out of the way.

Across the wide arena Ahmuhd raised his hand again, pointing it at the pair, but at that moment a rushing sound drew his attention as well as theirs. Looking past the man with the demon's head, father and daughter saw a familiar sight, a reddish glow advancing towards them steadily that lit the ribs of the tunnel. A second later Koriand'r, Princess of Tamaran, came flying into the cavern starbolts ablaze.

"Go, Mom!" Nightstar cried as her father took advantage of the momentary distraction to sever her bonds, freeing her. Keeping an eye on his advancing wife, somehow sensing something was wrong, he hugged his child and pointed her toward a small shelter of rock that lay nearby.

"Get down! Protect yourself!" he cried as he pushed her in its general direction.

"Dad! I can take care of myself. You don't have to ~"

" _Now!"_

She stared at him but didn't argue. A second later she was crouched down, peering around the rough hewn rock, watching her dad as he moved to the opposite side of the room to confront Ahmuhd.

The other man for his part remained relatively calm. He continued to stare at the alien invader with a curious expression on the face beneath the mask, as if he had some secret knowledge that kept him from fearing her even as the ferocious blasts she leveled at the cavern floor came closer and closer to him. He waited a moment and then he shouted something. Nightwing couldn't hear what it was for the sound of rock cracking and shattering all around him. As one good size boulder barely missed him, he darted sideways, inadvertently putting more distance between him and his child.

Then, suddenly, it was silent.

Glancing up, he found Koriand'r standing straight and tall beside Siddig al Ahmuhd, her hands still glowing. Her great emerald eyes were expressionless and when they fixed on him, there was no recognition in them.

The demon was laughing.

"I see you found the antidote, my dear. Good. Good. You have done my work for me."

Dick swallowed, all too afraid he understood exactly what the Ahmuhd meant. "Kory?" he whispered, "can you hear me?"

Behind him he heard Nightstar call, "Mom?"

"Stay back," he lifted his hand, signaling her. She was standing beside the rocky shelter. "Your mother is under his control."

"She is that," their captor spoke softly. "I have harnessed the power of the pit and made it bend to my will. All who get the antidote will be as this," he pointed at Kory, golden and glowing, "powerful, savage and completely under my control."

Nightwing backed a step away, watching her warily. "Kory, you can beat this. You _know_ you can! Kory…."

"She doesn't hear you. Only me. She is _my_ creature now. Princess …."

Koriand'r turned toward him. She took several steps forward like a sleep-walker. Her hands pulsed with unleashed power.

" _Kill him_."

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Bruce and Ibn were only minutes behind her. Weak, injured, battered and bleeding, they couldn't move with anything close to her speed. The older man had taken a strip of cloth and bound his shoulder, but he was still bleeding steadily and his son had to support him. The injury was not life threatening ~ at least not yet ~ but it prevented them from moving with any speed..

Finally, leaning against the tunnel wall, his head spinning, the Batman said, "You go on without me. I'll come as I can."

"No. Father, I won't leave you ~ "

"Then help me." His voice was grim, his blue eyes tearing.

"How?" Ibn came to his side. "How?"

"Help them."

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" _Mom! No!"_

Nightstar had flown frantically from her hiding place, her own hands blazing with

lavender-purple power. But she was too late. She watched in horror as her mother lowered her arms, pointing them at her father and screamed as the lethal energy flowing from them struck him with deadly force, propelling him backwards, slamming his battered form into an outcropping of rock. As she managed to drop in-between them, she saw him shift once, attempting to stand, before falling to the ground and laying still.

"Mom! Listen to me! Don't you know me? You have to stop! Mom!"

Koriand'r looked at her and for just a moment her eyes seemed to clear, but then Ahmuhd called from behind her again. "Finish him! I command it! It is my will! _Kill him now_!"

The princess turned and looked at him and then looked at the small girl before her, hesitating. Nightstar met her eyes, defiant. "Mom! It's me. Nightstar."

" _Kill him! Kill them both_!"

Her hands began to pulse again. Slowly she raised one of them and pointed it at the body of the man who lay still behind his child, blood slowly pooling beneath the tattered and torn blue and black outfit.

"Mom, please…" Nightstar shifted, blocking her path.

"Nightstar!" a new voice cried out suddenly.

"Ibn, look out! She's crazy! I think she killed Dad!"

From the other side of the room the young man's voice had come, breaking Ahmuhd's concentration. The man who wore the mask turned and raised his hand toward him, letting loose with a blast of his hidden weapon. Ibn leapt to the side and rolled to his feet, charging before the other man could repeat the action ~ or so he hoped. As he ran, he pulled a small pistol from his pocket and leveled it at the other man's chest.

"Drop it now or I will shoot."

" _Koriand'r!"_

"No, Mom, no!" Nightstar glanced from her father's still body to Ibn horrified. "Ibn, run! She's under his control. She'll kill you!" Leaping into the air the young woman flew towards her mother slamming into her body at full force. The older woman went down, their power trails mingling in a blaze of purple and red.

In the doorway Bruce Wayne hesitated. Weak and light-headed he knew he would be little help in the battle. Careful to avoid flying rocks and starbolts he began to circle his way around the room towards his fallen child.

Ahmuhd was fuming, his voice pitched high as he screamed for the Tamaranean to get up and do his will. Ibn stood a few yards away from him, his hand steady on the gun, his face ashen.

"Ahmuhd, in the name of the one whom you revered so many years ago. In my grandfather's name I call upon you to surrender. End this now or I will."

The tall man turned on him, ruby eyes blazing in the black mask. "I cannot die. You know that. I will live forever, just as you could have. You can still join me, child of Al Ghul. With this power," he pointed to Koriand'r where she was just rising and squaring off with her child, "we can rule the world."

"Release her."

"So long as I live, she will never be free, only enthralled."

Ibn hesitated a moment, gazing beyond Ahmuhd to a strong figure brought low by sorrow. His lips curled and his eyes darkened.

"I am sorry, Father," he whispered and then he pulled the trigger.

Ahmuhd fell to the ground and lay still, the breath and life gone from him.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Nightstar rested on her hands and her feet straddling her mother. With Ahmuhd's death Koriand'r had fallen silent. Power still rushed through her but it was lessening as her eyes cleared and her breathing evened. She blinked several times and breathed deep, finally seeing her child before her.

"Nightstar?" she whispered.

The girl was weeping openly, her eyes red and raw.

Something was dreadfully wrong.

"Nightstar…." Koriand'r paused, looking back toward the opening into the tunnel, past Ibn to the man who lay silent at his feet. The dead man's voice whispered still in her head, causing her blood to race; her heart to pound. She vaguely remembered awaking feeling well, really well for the first time in so long. Then she recalled rising in the cell and hearing his voice, Ahmuhd's voice bidding her come, calling her to him. And then ~

"X'Hal!" she cried, "Dick!"

"Mom, he's…." Nightstar choked, unable to think or say it. "You _hurt_ him…."

Koriand'r shifted, moving her child aside. She stood and walked deliberately towards the tableau that confronted her. An old man sat, weary beyond his years, cradling the broken and bleeding body of his child. She stopped several feet away, her heartbeat crashing in her ears; her breath coming faster and faster. Her head spun so she thought she might go mad.

Bruce lifted his eyes, meeting hers. There was no condemnation in them, only deep and indescribable loss.

"He's dead," he whispered, moving aside a lock of the jet black hair. "His body simply couldn't take it. He's been through …too much." His hand went out towards her, knowing something of how she felt. Hadn't he blamed himself so many years, for his parents…for Jason…. "Koriand'r?"

A deep growl had begun in her throat. Quickly it built into a cry that shook the very foundations of the cavern they stood within. And then from her hands power began to pour unbidden, seeking release. She raised her hands high over her head, pointing them and her starbolts at the ceiling, shrieking, "NO!"

Amidst the remnants of pulverized rock and debris that rained down upon them, she fell to her knees sobbing. Seconds later a hand rested on her shoulder. She didn't look up but the Batman did. His other son was watching him and when he spoke, it was with deliberation, weighing each word.

"There is still the Pit."


	7. Rebirth

_Chapter Seven: Rebirth_

Koriand'r stood alone at the edge of the Lazarus Pit staring into the seething, boiling lake of fire that had consumed her husband's broken body. The fierce heat that struck her golden skin could have

~ at another time, in another place ~ almost seemed comforting, a reminder of a lush verdant home left behind long ago. But the flames that accompanied it, licking the cavern walls like a ravenous beast, were blinding and the stench produced as the baneful liquids collided and combusted almost more than one could bear. In spite this, she found herself drawing a deep breath. With resolve, she stepped back, removing her bare foot from the first of a dozen slick steps carved from solid rock which led down to the roughly rectangular pool. It had been close. Sheer strength of will had kept her from leaping after him into the roiling cauldron of chemicals and poisons as she saw his precious face vanish beneath the red and orange waves.

Dick was dead.

She was alive, and _he_ was dead.

She closed her emerald eyes and counted off the seconds which seemed to be mounting with swift wings into long minutes. How much time could it take? She glanced back toward the entrance to the cave, half expecting to find Ibn and Bruce standing there with alongside Nightstar despite her expressed desire to be left alone with her husband at this time. But they were not there. Not even their furtive shadows flitted half-masked across the cavern walls. They had taken her at her word and so she was alone. Glancing at the Pit where the bubbles seemed to be breathe and die with a life of their own, she wondered if it would always be that way.

 _Dick_ was dead.

Sighing, she cast her mind back what seemed an eternity but was in fact less than fifteen minutes. Time had seemed to stand still. Breath had ceased. Her heart no longer beating for the pain.

 _Dick was dead_ ….

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"NO! Nooooo….."

Koriand'r's voice trailed off as nearby the Batman's son drew a harsh shuddering breath and cast his eyes at the Lazarus Pit. It called to him silently, offering a solution…salvation in fact… but at what cost? It had brought his grandfather back untold times, but it had also pointed the way to a life that ended in self-centered madness. The deadly toxins churning before him were a special brew; death to those who lived ~ as his maternal grandmother had found out~ but life for those dying or just dead. He glanced at the man on the ground, broken and bloodied, cradled in his father's arms. This man was more than a brother to him, he knew that now. He was… a friend….. Could he let him die when the knowledge to save him lay within his grasp? And yet Dick had decried the notion of entering the Pit just as he , Ibn, had rejected it. He had said he would not choose it for himself. Still, he couldn't answer for what he would do if a loved one had died. If it had been Bruce or Nightstar, even Ibn himself, would the other man have waited? Could he have turned away? He thought not.

Ibn Al Xu'ffasch looked around, seeking Nightstar. The black-haired beauty was in shock, her skin white as her father's, her great green eyes wide as the ocean turbulent and tempest-tossed. He turned to stare at her mother where she knelt beating the hard floor of the cavern over and over with fists of rage and frustration. He agreed. It wasn't fair. But then life seldom was.

Still…..

Moving forward, he cautiously laid a hand on the alien's shoulder, his eyes seeking his father's. His fingers trembled as they touched her warm flesh and he felt a hole open in his stomach, a pit seemingly as large and as deep as the one that loomed giant before them all.

"There is still the Pit," he said matter-of-factly.

Nightstar's mother turned to stare at him, comprehension slowly dawning in her eyes. Several feet away the Batman stood, carefully laying his son's head against the warmed rock after brushing the cold forehead with his lips. Bent and bowed he walked toward them, his hands covered in blood.

"No," was all he said.

"Bruce," Ibn protested, "it does not have to mean madness. That is only temporary, at least at first."

His father shook his head. "I know what it means. I've felt the Pit's embrace, I'm sure Ra's told you, and am here ~ sane or not. Much as I want him back…." His voice broke and tears spilled unrestrained from his pale blue eyes, "…you know what he said."

Ibn's eyebrows rose. That conversation had been private, when his father had been sleeping in another room on the Batwing.

"How…?" the young man began.

Bruce smiled grimly. "One thing you'll learn, boy, I _never_ sleep."

Behind the trio Nightwing's daughter seemed to awaken from her trance. Her full lips parted and words fell from them, rapid, like bullets from a barrel. "What are you fighting about? What do you mean? What _is_ this Pit? This thing….?" She gestured toward the fiery bath and then her eyes returned to her grandfather. "Grandpa, tell me. Is Dad … _dead_ , or can you… can _Ibn_ bring him back? What are you talking about? "

"We are talking about the road to _madness_ , Nightstar." Bruce crossed his arms in judgment. "A road your father chose not to walk. He knew the risks when he came after you and your mother. We all did."

The young woman stared hard at him as though she were seeing him for the first time and could not quite believe her eyes. Her jaw tightened as a sudden flare-up of the crackling flames behind them highlighted the silent figure that lay not far away. She had tried to avoid it, but now it drew her attention and the anger in her melted before the harsh reality of inconceivable loss. Her eyes teared as she moved forward whimpering, "Daddy…."

Koriand'r rose, firmly blocking her child's path. "No. Don't look."

"Mom? What?" She glared at her mother and grandfather and then rounded on Ibn. "What is this thing? I've heard of it before, but Dad was never specific." She dried her eyes and demanded an answer. "It has to do with _your_ grandfather, right? The one they called the 'Demon's Head'?""

"My grandfather was once a great man, called a despot by many, but strong, keen and able nonetheless. His life ended as all lives must, but he refused to die. The hand of fate was kind to him, granting this …request, and soon through the Pit and use of its restorative powers, he lived again. He was _reborn,_ stronger, rejuvenated…"

"And quite mad. Many have regretted that _kind_ hand's intervention," Bruce interrupted, his face a portrait in agony.

"No," his son shook his dark locks, "not the first time. There was a brief period of madness but he recovered with no ill effects. There is no proof that the Pit causes madness unless the one who is reborn brings it to the bath himself…."

"You've never experienced it." The blue eyes were steel. "I have. I wouldn't choose to go back."

"Not even to heal your broken body?," the young man protested. " Not even to give Gotham's guardian a new lease on life, to live to fight another hundred years?" He gestured to Bruce, raising his hands, " You are not mad."

The Batman smiled grimly. "That ~ according to some ~ is debatable."

Ibn was taken aback. He fell silent. Behind him Nightstar abruptly put two and two together and realized what it was they were hesitating to do. Infuriated, she whirled on them, her soft voice strident and slightly crazed. "You mean if I put Dad in there, he would come out alive? Then what the Hell are you waiting for! Mom! Tell them!"

Koriand'r looked at her but her face was a mask, unreadable. Her eyes were locked on the fallen frame of her husband and she didn't answer.

" _Mom?_ " Nightstar blinked away tears and without preamble, began to rise into the air. "What is wrong with all of you? If you won't do it, I sure as Hell will!" A blaze of lavender light began to encase her, trailing from her long silken hair and slender hands stretched out toward her father's corpse, ten long years of longing and guilt, shame and pain brought together in one word. "Daddy!"

"Nightstar," Ibn cried, reaching for her, "I _will_ help him. I know how. But you must wait! There are things to be done. He must be _prepared_."

"Ibn," Bruce laid his hand on his son's shoulder. "You have to respect his wishes."

The young man's dark eyes met his. "If you heard the entire conversation back there on the plane, then you know I am, father. _I am_."

"No, this is taking too long," the girl wailed, beginning to move.

"Nightstar, please! I will…."

" _No_." A firm voice spoke startling the girl so she halted in her flight. Both men turned and looked to see a regal figure, the princess of Tamaran cradling her husband's broken form against her bosom, his blood mixing with her tears. She had moved to his side while they debated and lifted him from the earth. "I will do it. It is my place. And I will do it _alone."_

Bruce took a step near her, a lump forming in his throat as Dick's limp hand swung loose at her side. "Koriand'r, you don't understand…"

"No. You don't, old man. I have already lost ten years of my life. Lost _ten_ years with my child and with my husband, _ten years_ that should have been mine. I will not give him over to death if there is another way."

"It was not his choice," Bruce protested meekly..

She sighed and raised her head.

"It is mine."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Minutes later, after Ibn had given her a brief description of the procedure and she had laid her husband's still form on the stretcher that would bear it above and into the rolling, boiling mass, she turned to them and asked them all to leave.

"What? You mean you were serious when you said you would do this alone?" Bruce was the first to voice his confusion. "Why should we leave? By what right do you make us?"

"You said it yourself. When he emerges…" _Dear X'Hal, she breathed to herself, let him emerge._ "…there will be a period of madness accompanied by amplified and exaggerated strength." She took in the older man, letting him follow her eye as it assessed his condition, passing judgment from the puncture wound in his shoulder which bled still to the battered and broken costume that housed and inadequately protected his frail human form. "You are in no condition to deal with that. Besides," she met his eyes, knowing _he_ knew she spoke the truth, "he would not want you to see him that way. You know that."

The older man's face flushed, showing anger. "I have witnessed _more_ than my share of madness. He is my son. If you choose to do this, I want to be here."

"All the more reason you should not be." Koriand'r met his eyes, her own pleading silently. "You say you remember what it was like when you emerged from the Pit? Answer me this then, would you have wanted _him_ there?"

Blue eyes blinked. He couldn't lie. "No. But that doesn't mean…."

"Honor my request. Honor his memory."

"What if he is stronger than you think? What if you _can't_ handle him alone?" Bruce's voice fell, "Or what if the madness _doesn't_ end….?"

She glanced at the silent figure on the stretcher, pale hands folded over a still chest. "He will not harm me. I know him."

" _But will he know you?"_

She frowned and swallowed hard. " _That_ is a chance I am willing to take." She turned and met her daughter's eyes which were locked on her father's form and filled with tears. "Nightstar, take your grandfather and leave.":

"Mom…. I don't want to go…."

Koriand'r smiled sadly. "I know." She placed her hand on the girl's cheek and whispered, "But this is not for you. Take your young man and the _old stubborn_ one and go."

Ibn watched her closely, uncertain. "Are you sure you can manage? The process is not overly complicated, but I would be willing…."

"I will be fine, Ibn. Dick…." she glanced at the quiet form, "…will be fine. When you return he will be as he was. Now go. Do as I ask."

Ibn Al Xu'ffasch looked at Dick Grayson's daughter and saw her tremble. _As she asked?_ More as she _commanded_. He put his arms about Nightstar and began to draw her away. She hesitated a moment, turning a pleading face towards her mother, this woman she had known so long ago and yet, seemed not to know at all. Koriand'r shook her head. "Promise me you will not return."

"Mom…."

"Promise."

Nightstar nodded reluctantly and let Ibn lead her out, but as she walked her eyes remained fixed on her father's silent shape and the fire that raged behind it.

Bruce followed slowly, limping. As weighted chains he felt each of the days he had passed on this earth, each _brutally_ hard year bearing down on him with each step he took away from the Pit and his first 'son'. It was not often he recognized or accepted that something was 'out of his hands', but this time he was thankful. Dick would live. Honor be damned.

Ibn stood by the entrance waiting patiently for him. Nightstar was already in the tunnel. "If it is any consolation, father, I believe the Pit reflects much of what the man who uses it has brought with him. My grandfather was a man possessed. Over time that which possessed him drove him mad. Dick has no such compulsions. He is a good man…."

Bruce sighed, rubbing a filthy hand over his eyes and then braced it against the stone wall of the cave. He stared at Ibn as though he meant to say something, but then changed his mind. Instead he whispered softly, "The best you have ever ~ or _will_ ever~ know." At the doorway he turned, unable to stop staring at the pair silhouetted against the umbrous flames. "Koriand'r," he called softly, his voice nonetheless carrying across the giant chamber, "take care of him."

"I will." Her tone was firm, resolute. "There is no way I would not." She turned away to place her hand on the winch that would begin the process of lowering the stretcher into the churning mass of flaming liquid, but then at the last moment called softly after him, "Thank you, Bruce."

He stopped. "For what?"

She laughed, a low warm sound and pivoted to meet the troubled stare. "For everything. For my life. For _this_."

The gray haired man nodded curtly and then with his shoulders held high, walked stiffly from the room.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The golden woman gasped. A hand was rising from the bubbling churning liquid. One, and then another. Soon a dark head capped above the waves and her husband rose reborn, the remnants of his blue and black costume slick against his glowing skin, raven hair plastered to cheeks that blossomed once again, pink and healthy. Silently he moved toward her, his booted foot striking the first of the twelve rock steps that would bring him to her side.

Koriand'r smiled, her green eyes aglow with gratitude. "Thank X'Hal!" she breathed, stepping forward and reaching out to him, "Dick. My love…."

And then she saw his eyes.

A stranger's eyes.

He stared at her, not through her, but _at_ her with such raw hatred that she drew back as though struck. Her foot hit a loose stone, cast there by the destruction of the ceiling, and she lost her balance, tipping sideways just as he lunged at her, his hands aiming for her throat.

"Dick! It's me, Kory! Dick! _Don't you know me?_ "

He rounded on her, fixing his cold blue eyes on her face with no recognition. His top lip curled back and a low guttural voice, barely recognizable as his uttered the words, cried, "Where is my wife, you she-devil? What have you done with her? You will tell me or you will die!"

Koriand'r slid back along the stone floor, seeking to regain her footing. Her hand contacted the top step of the Pit and she hesitated. Ibn had said it would mean death to those living. Did that include one newly raised from its fiery womb? She couldn't chance having him jump her again. He might over-reach and fall back into its deadly embrace. Drawing a breath she spoke calmly, her voice more level than she thought possible.

"Dick. I _am_ you wife. I _am_ Koriand'r. Dick, don't you know me?" Tears kissed the corners of her eyes as she looked at him. So close…. And yet so far away. " _Dick?"_

Crystal clear blue eyes narrowed as he approached her, powerful hands clasping and unclasping, his chest heaving so the final bits of the liquid from the Pit streamed over the flesh, making it glisten. "I know who you are. I have been plagued by your presence in my mind," his hand went from his head to his chest and his whole being seemed to breathe deep, "in my heart and in my dreams. You are a false vision, a ghost without substance…" He swayed a bit losing focus. "Something conjured up by one of my enemies or …by my own grief to drive me mad."  
"You are not mad. It is me, _really_ me. _I am here_." She shifted and made a motion to rise, "Dick, _I'm alive_."

"My wife is dead." The words were cold…empty…hopeless. Apparently the Pit had not driven him mad but senseless.

" _No, I'm not_. Don't you remember? Bruce kept me alive. He used Mr. Freeze's equations. He saved me."

The man before her seemed to pause, uncertain. "Bruce…"

"Yes, Bruce. Think, Dick. _Think!_ Before we could see each other Nightstar and I were kidnapped. You came here with Bruce and Ibn. Dick…." Koriand'r rose up on her knees, her arms outstretched, "I've missed you so."

As she spoke, he began to circle her, regarding her warily. She pivoted with him, following his form with a raw hunger in her eyes. Tears kissed her cheeks and she began to cry.

"Dick, it _is_ me!"

Without warning he moved and struck like lightning, catching her slender neck between his strong hands, pressing so tight she could hardly speak... barely breathe. His eyes met hers, the gaze so intense it made her look away. His fingers tightened as she did and he repeated unseeing, unhearing, "My wife is dead."

"No," she squeaked, "no…." She could feel the power within her welling up, instinct overcoming thought as she began to black out. Her hands had begun to glow scarlet, preparing to unleash their power when suddenly the image of her starbolt blasting her husband's frail form into the cavern wall filled her eyes and she knew that before she would do that again, she would die.

"Dick," she whispered softly, "…good…bye. I… love you."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Outside in the tunnel Bruce paced like a panther caged.

"It has been too long."

"No," Ibn answered, "it has not."

"It's too quiet." Nightstar added, striking the rock wall with her fist so that pebbles flew.

"Quiet can be good."

"I shouldn't have left them alone." The man who was the Batman turned back towards the entrance to the cave. "If something happens, I will be responsible."

"No one is responsible for another's actions," his son corrected. "Koriand'r chose ~"

"Koriand'r was wrong. I'm going back."

Nightstar stood beside her grandfather, her head high. "So am I."

"No, you're not," her grandfather challenged her, touching her shoulder, "it isn't safe for a child…."

"But it is for an old man?" Her green eyes flared as she shook off his hand and her own began to glow lavender. She rose into the air. "You try to stop me."

"Nightstar!"

Ibn looked from one to the other and took a step back. "You are both formidable opponents. I can say nothing to hold you back but this one thing…."

Bruce's jaw locked and Nightstar hesitated.

"You promised."

Grandfather and granddaughter looked at each other and then down the long corridor towards the place where the unknown drama was unfolding without them. Slowly the girl lowered herself to the floor and crossing to him laid her head on his shoulder. Bruce reached up and caressed the long dark hair softly.

"Damn."

Slowly Koriand'r opened her eyes. Her breathing was uneven but unobstructed. Above her, her husband's tear-streaked face loomed large. Ever so gently his hand was brushing her cheek and he was whispering her name.

Blinking she asked softy, "Am I dreaming?"

"Kory, honey, no…." Dick Grayson paused, nearly unable to continue. "Kory, I…. I'm sorry."

Shifting, leaning into his strength as he held her, the Tamaranean clasped his hand in hers, holding it tight. "Sorry?"  
"God, Kory, look at your neck." His fingers caressed the brown-red bruises there. "I could have…."

"Shhh. Be quiet." She swallowed, regaining strength in her voice. "None of that matters now." Her eyes fastened on his face, his precious face. _He was alive!_ "Just hold me."

He met her eyes and planted a soft kiss on her brow before crushing her to him, his arms finding at last the answer to the ache that had plagued them for ten long years. "Kory," he whispered, "Kory, _you're real…_ " Tears spilled from his cheeks. Unashamed he sobbed, holding her tighter. "Kory…."

She held him, waiting for the tempest to pass, her own tears silent ones of joy.

A moment later he rocked back on his heels and sat just looking at her. She smiled at him and then frowned, the edges of her mouth turning downward slightly. He glanced behind himself, puzzled, and then turned back to meet her disarming stare.

"What? What is it?"

She reached out and touched his temples, smiling. "They'll think I'm robbing the cradle."

He shook his head and liquid flew from it, striking the ground and dappling it. "What are you talking about?"

Taking his hand she stood, "Nevermind. I'm so selfish. There are others here waiting for you."

She slipped her arm about his waist and squeezed him, "Come on. I have a little girl who needs her daddy to take her home."

 _Epilogue_

Koriand'r stood quite still, her golden finger tracing the lettering on the marble and granite monument. A single rose lay at her feet, a remembrance of things past…. Of loved ones she would never see again. Of voices she would never hear. Hands she would never take.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Her husband watched her from several yards away, concern etched into his handsome features. After mopping up what remained of Ahmuhd's organization they had returned to the States. Bruce had been strangely quiet, returning to Gotham, seemingly worried that his absence had left his precious city undefended. Ibn had journeyed here… with them… to Kansas, to the memorial raised in honor of those who had died in battle on a small indiscriminate wheat field not so long ago. He and Bruce had not spoken on the trip back. Ibn had killed Ahmuhd. Broken the code. Dick sighed. _That_ was a matter for another day. Now he was worried about his wife. She had taken the news hard. No surprise that. It would be difficult enough waking up with a decade gone, finding a world lost in madness that was only beginning to seek a path to sanity. Harder still to find that madness had claimed many…. No, _most_ of those you held dear. He still marveled that they had all escaped. Bruce. Nightstar. Clark. Himself. Once he had felt a deep and profound guilt over that. Now he felt nothing but blessed and thankful.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Donna.

Roy.

Garth.

How many others? Koriand'r sighed and wiped tears from her eyes. For each name there inscribed she could envision a face. Remember a moment. Donna at the hospital the night Nightstar was born, weeping, sharing her joy. Roy kidding Dick, giving him a hard time about being a father while looking at Donna longingly as though knowing what he had missed. Recognizing the love and the strength of their family.

Roy's child, Lian. Tula….

X'Hal, the children. Her focus shifted and she looked over at her own daughter, laughing quietly, leaning on Ibn's arm. Her child had been spared. There were no words to express how grateful she felt.

No words.

A sudden rush of air disturbed her ankle-length locks, reddish waves flowing about her, falling into her eyes. Raising a trembling hand to corral them, she saw a familiar red and blue blur descend from the sky coming to rest near her husband opposite her, on the other side of the vast monument that marked the spot where so many of Earth's bravest and brightest had fallen. A smile lit her face as she watched Diana land a few short feet behind him.

Life went on. Hope endured.

"Clark."

"Dick." Dressed in his Superman uniform, the Kryptonian held his hand out, wondering if the former Teen Titan would take it.

Dick met the light blue eyes and for just a moment a shadow passed over his face ~ all these years Clark had known, but had never said a word, keeping Bruce's _secret_ ~ but then he saw a tall figure moving through the obelisk's shadow approaching them and knew any remonstrances belonged in the past. He held out his hand and took the other man's, shaking it.

Gratitude filled the big man's eyes.

"Diana." Dick nodded to the Amazonian princess, acknowledging her presence.

"Nightwing," she answered, her eyebrows arching. "And where is Red Robin?"

He met Clark's eyes as he answered her, "In the past where he belongs, with every other mistake I or someone else has made. You have to move on."

Clark's feet shuffled, the self-conscious gesture of a little boy that endeared him even more to the woman who stood beside him. "I'm sorry I had to leave when I did, Dick. I brought Nightstar to Maine and wanted to stay, but the President…."

"You don't have to explain, Clark. We managed."

"So what happened?" The big man drew his hand back and adjusted the red cape on his shoulders. "We've had no news. Has Bruce found out anything new about Koriand'r's condition?"

The man dressed as Nightwing smiled broadly, inclining his head. "Why don't you ask her?"

"What? How….?"

Diana pivoted as a shadow fell at their feet, her mouth open. "We've been off planet. We had no idea. My dear…." Her arms opened wide and the tall alien fell into them, her eyes filled with tears.

"Koriand'r. welcome home."

"Diana, I am so sorry about Donna…. I don't know what to say. I can't…."

Diana pressed a finger to her full lips. "Donna lives within you and me. We must honor that. But today is not a day for sadness, but great rejoicing. You were dead, but now you live!"

"Koriand'r…." Clark was staring at her, memories of Lois suddenly striking him like the blows of a fist. Blows that were softened as Diana moved to his side and took his arm. "…it is so good to see you."

"Clark, I'm sorry. Lois…." At a loss for words, the tall alien shook her head. "This is so hard."

The big man let go of Diana's arm and walked over to the young woman gazing deep into her eyes. "Every ending brings a new beginning. You're alive," he said softly as he embraced her, "and for all of us that makes the journey worth while."

Diana drew near the duo, her eyes narrowed. "How is it you look so young, Princess? The years away have been kind to you."

Koriand'r laughed, her fingers subconsciously tracing the pale yellow streaks in her long mane. They were not so visible now that she was revived, but were there nonetheless. "I'm not sure I'd put it exactly that way," the Tamaranean replied, irony in her tone. "Apparently Bruce is more aware of a woman's vanity than he would let on. I only aged when he had me out of the tank."

"And you," Clark swung on Nightwing as he came to his wife's side and with a contented sigh, embraced her. "What is your secret? I seem to remember gray on that black field."

Koriand'r ran her fingers through her husband's jet black hair and gazed into his eyes which were clear and bright. There were no wrinkles of care anymore. No lines to mar the smooth forehead. The Pit ~ and her return ~ had erased them all. Overwhelmed with joy she reached out and caught his chin, pulling him into an embrace, kissing him deeply.

"Will you two stop it already!" a young voice called out touched with merriment, "you're embarrassing me." Nightstar stood not far from the group, her hand still in Ibn's. "I keep telling you that if you carry on like that, no one is going to believe you're old enough to be my parents."

"Clark, you know Nightstar and I think you've met Ibn…."

Clark nodded. "Ibn." The young man bowed and offered his hand. The big man stared at the feral features, the hawklike eyes and glistening smile, touched by their familiarity.

"…Bruce's son."

Salt and pepper brows raised at that bit of information. Diana coughed and Nightwing laughed, long and hard. Overhead birds wheeled in the fair blue sky and a gentle breeze fanned Koriand'r's hair as she held her husband tight, breathing in his presence and basking in the pure pleasure of his company.

Never. Never again would she say goodbye.


End file.
